


Heir Apparent

by BlackenedThorne (BlueThorne)



Series: Heir Apparent [1]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Everyone is still a demon though, M/M, Nero Isn't Related AU, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-01-21 19:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 91,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12464601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueThorne/pseuds/BlackenedThorne
Summary: Medieval AU in which Prince Dante sort-of accidentally kidnaps the enemy kingdom's prince. King Sparda isn't as concerned as he should be, Prince Vergil is the only sensible one, and the kidnapped Prince Nero may or may not get them all killed.





	1. In Fair Capulet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got an account on here too so I can ruin things for everyone. Anyway, here's my AU where guns are horses.

I'd only ever seen Fortunan armor attached to bones. Demons tended to hoard the plating because it was so shiny - all white, ornate, and not remotely suitable for battle. I'd always wondered about the practicality of it, considering I'd never seen a live Fortunan soldier.

Not until today at least.

Couldn't say the armor wasn't pretty with the sunlight glinting off it, but it sure wasn't going to help the poor bastards fight off a swarm of Blades. The couple dozen soldiers were being herded like sheep, crowding against each other as the damned lizards circled them. They all had their swords drawn and were shaking in their boots. Even they knew that armor wouldn't hold up against claws the size of their forearms.

"Am I supposed to save them?" I asked Ebony, who danced between his hooves to show his displeasure. He never liked when I made him stop near demons, but he tolerated it with the Blades down in the basin, their sights on a different target.

I was all about saving civilians from demons or just killing demons in general, but Fortunan soldiers were not supposed to be this far north. They'd surpassed the border and then some. If they were on our land with ill-intent, I wasn't eager to rush in and play hero.

But I wasn't going to let a bunch of stupid humans die, and I couldn't pass up an opportunity to fight so many demons. I'd only picked off stragglers all day.

"I can hear them now," I sighed as I stepped down from Ebony. "'Dante, why did you get involved with Fortunan soldiers?'" Rebellion snapped from its holster. "'Dante, why didn't you stay with your retainers?' 'Dante, why aren't you listening-?'"

"Hold formation!" one of the men on horseback said as I started down the grassy slope. None of the men on the outside had moved, but the second man on horseback was dismounting.

"I can handle this!" the second returned, sounding like someone who was about to get eaten by demons.

I quickened my pace as he forced his way through their line with his sword drawn. Definitely going to be eaten by demons. "Come on, you bastards!" he said. Blades did love a challenge.

The nearest one leapt at him, its claws clanging against his sword instead of ripping into his chest. Score one for the idiot, I guess.

With a roar, Idiot swung hard, throwing the demon off. The Blade wriggled in the air, attempting to right itself. It landed on its back just in time to meet my sword jammed through its chin. "Nice one!" I called to Idiot as the Blade writhed toward death.

I thought I heard him scoff behind his helmet as he rushed another Blade. It hissed at his approach.

"You come here often?" I asked, cleaving through another one that tried to launch itself at me.

Idiot ignored me, opting to jam his sword into the Blade's clawed hand so he could kick it in the face. Maybe not the most effective move, but I had the feeling I liked this guy.

The rest of his merry band weren't faring as well. The Blades were backing them toward the river with each strike. The men's swords might as well have been sewing needles for all the use they got out of them.

"Your plan seems to be going well," I said as Idiot wrestled his foot free of the Blade's mouth. Another stalked toward his back.

"Shut up!" His sword came down on one beast's neck just as the other went for his.

He was lucky I didn't mind the insult. In three quick strides, I stepped between them and jammed Rebellion up into the belly of his newest attacker. "That's no way-" I whipped the demon off the end of my blade, "-to talk to your savior."

Even through the mask of his helmet, I could tell he was glaring at me with murder in his eyes. "I don't remember asking for your help."

"Then you should really get on that because you need it."

Before I could show off some more by taking care of the Blade racing toward him, he turned and sliced his sword across its open mouth, cutting it a wider smile. It gargled its pain until another clean strike finished it off.

Despite the kid hardly reaching my chin, the falchion sword he wielded was about the size of Rebellion and twice as flashy, yet he swung it as easy as a standard broadsword.

"I don't need your help," Idiot said without turning back to me. "You should leave. I won't take responsibility if you get killed." He sounded like when Vergil tried to talk all smart at 13 - overly deep voice, obnoxiously formal, and clearly younger than he wanted to let on.

I would have gone to help the rest of his group, but they'd swapped tactics. Cavalry guy had control now, and had rallied the men into fighting back. I could have helped, but admittedly, I was too amused by this stupid kid.

Jamming Rebellion into the ground, I leaned my elbow against the hilt. "Alright, yell if you need me then," I said. A couple Blades circled me, hissing and waiting for a chance to take me by surprise. They were welcome to try.

The kid just ran up to Blades with all the finesse of a filly, hacking as he went. He was lucky the lizards weren't graceful either, so his plan mostly worked out for him. At least, it worked until one of them whapped him with its tail hard enough to smash him to the ground.

His breath left him with a choked wheeze, so he didn't actually yell, but the other soldiers did. The air filled with startled cries and gasps.

"I'll count it," I said, pulling Rebellion free and racing to his side. He'd let go of his sword when he hit the ground - always a bad move - so he was pawing for its hilt as the Blade reared back its claws to cleave through him. Its strike met Rebellion instead.

"So how's not needing help working out for you?" I asked as the demon turned on me.

"Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!" He reached his sword and threw an awkward sweep from where he lay on his back. The lack of power in the swing left the sword stuck in the Blade's neck, its blood pouring down onto him.

The other soldiers were all still yelling, asking if the kid was alright. As though they'd gotten over their fears, they were all trying to skirt around the remaining Blades to get to him.

Despite what Vergil said, I wasn't stupid. Well, not that stupid. Those soldiers wouldn't fret over just anyone.

"What's so special about you, kid?" I asked as he struggled to regain his feet. His breaths came in weighted gasps, echoing behind his mask until I reached down and plucked the helmet off.

Now the soldiers were all screaming at my back. The kid - and he really was a kid - looked up at me in shock with eyes blue as a morning sky. His hair matched his his armor in white that shone in the sun.

I plastered a grin on my face despite the questions twisting through my head. "You look familiar."

Blood poured from a cut on his hairline, soaking into his hair to stain it red. He said nothing, his lips pressed tight, but his eyes darted through an array of emotions. The determination he decided on led him to raise his sword, but by that point, I'd already made my decision as well.

I didn't think I hit him too hard, but he went limp as soon as Rebellion's hilt tapped the side of his head.

Now the soldiers were threatening me with all sorts of inventive deaths. They seethed with rage, demanding I step away from the kid. I didn't make any friends when I tossed him over one shoulder. Even the kid voiced his anger with a slurred, "You put me down you...goddamn…ugh." But I wasn't leaving without answers, and I had a feeling asking wouldn't get me any.

Ebony thundered over at my whistle, though he snorted in upset when I dropped the kid over his back.

"Relax, I won't hurt the kid… more," I said to the nearing soldiers as I climbed into the saddle. "But you know you're in Capulet, right?" They must not have realized it because several hesitated and glanced around. It seemed like as good of a time as any to kick Ebony into a run. Shouts followed me, but they were left to contend with the remaining Blades. The cavalry guy must have tried to give chase because I glanced back to see his horse reared back against one of the Blades.

All the while, the kid was grumbling and trying to right himself. I held onto the plating at his back to keep him from slipping off and meeting Ebony's hooves.

"You're gonna fuckin' die," I made out at one point. "I'll kill you, you stupid… dumb. Where's my sword?" His hands kept slipping on the horse's side when he tried to push himself up, but it was for the best. Ebony slowed his gallop for a moment to turn and bite the kid's ear. "Ow! I'll fight you too!"

"I guess I did hit you too hard," I said. "Or are you always this eloquent?"

"I'll kill you," he hissed. "Let go of me."

"Why? So you can go and get killed by more demons?"

"I was doing fine," he said about as clearly as a drunk.

"Sure you were. So what were you Fortuna boys doing on our land?"

"Whose land?"

I was losing him. "You're in Capulet," I said.

"No we're not. This is Fortuna."

"Ah yes, because Fortuna is known for all its rolling hills and farmland."

He seemed to consider this for a moment, or maybe he'd blacked out again. Finally, he responded, "Fortuna has…hills."

He may have been right. I'd never been to Fortuna. Biting back a laugh, I slowed Ebony to a halt and hoisted the kid up enough that he could see the castle in the distance. We were still a good hour out, but the gray towers were visible on the horizon. "Does Fortuna also have Capulet's castle?"

He must have blinked a dozen times in a half-second. "You brought me to Capulet? What the fuck? You kidnapped me for Capulet!?"

"Are you always this slow, or is it the head wound?"

Instead of an answer, he took a page out of Ebony's book, latching his hands onto my arm and turning to bite me. The thick fabric of my sleeve saved me from any real damage, but it was enough to make me let go of him. That gave him the chance to push himself off Ebony's back. Though he landed on his feet, they didn't hold him long. After two stumbled steps backward, he met the earth again.

"Well, aren't you full of surprises?" I said.

He responded with a groan. That must of been the last of the fight in him because he remained dazed and limp as I tied his still-armored hands together and righted him in the saddle. "No," he said as I took my seat behind him. He frowned down at his hands as though he'd just noticed the rope. "No…" He frowned harder when my arms wrapped around him to grab the reins. "No. No. No."

"You doing alright?" I asked, kicking Ebony back into a trot.

"No."

"Not sure what I expected. I'll probably need to get you to a doctor. I half-expected you to heal on your own, but that doesn't seem to be happening." Wounds and healing and all that weren't my specialty. Maybe Lady could help after she finished trying to kill me.

"Stop touching me," the kid said.

"You don't like it?" I rested my chin against the top of his head, smirking. "I think it's romantic."

"I'll bite your fucking nose off."

I decided it was best not to lean to close to the kid while he was in a mood and righted myself. "So… We haven't introduced ourselves-"

"What do you want?" he said over me.

Good question. I wasn't so sure myself, but it seemed fair to let the kid have a moment's honesty. "Just some answers, I suppose."

He said nothing after that, even when I tried to prod him with the occasional joke. When we made it to the castle gates, he ducked his face away from the guards as though they might recognize him.

"There you are, Your Highness," one of the guards greeted. The kid's shoulders went taut, and I realized I never had introduced myself. "Your retainers came back without you-"

"I'm fine," I said with a quick wave of my hand. "Could you take care of Ebony for me? I need to go have a quick talk with my dad."

After stepping down from the saddle, I tossed the kid over my shoulder again. "Hey-hey!" he snapped, kicking his feet. He must have gotten some energy back.

The guards stared in stunned confusion as I gave them a lazy salute and started off toward the castle's interior. The kid fought like a pissed cat all the while. I had a feeling he could have done something about it if not for his injury. As things were, all he could manage was, "I'll kill you. I'll kill you, you bastard. I'll kill you. Put me down. I'll kill you right here."

"Wouldn't recommend that in my castle," I said.

He went quiet again, but his attempts to wriggle free doubled.

Truthfully, it wasn't my castle. I preferred it that way. The men it rightfully belonged to looked up from whatever boring document the day had brought as I smashed open the door to the study.

"I'm back!" I greeted with a smile.

Vergil looked annoyed I'd managed to return alive, and Dad looked somewhere between "I'm going to lecture you for three hours" and "Please explain the furious child you're carrying."

"Son, who is that?" he asked at length. It looked like the latter won out.

I leaned forward enough to drop the kid to his feet, though I had to grab him by the arm to keep him from falling again. He was quick to wrench himself away.

"I don't know," I said. "I found him."

"He's wearing Fortuna armor," Vergil said, wearing his usual scowl. "What did you do, Dante?"

"You found him?" Dad added.

Both of them lost their masks of calm control as they noticed the kid's appearance. A thousand questions flickered behind their eyes. We all matched - blue eyes, white hair. The kid noticed the oddity as well. He looked from my father, to Vergil, to me. As he opened his mouth to question me, Dad spoke. "Son. Explain."

I didn't have much of an explanation, but I offered my story top to bottom with the kid's occasional muttered growls of "Stop calling me kid," and "You hit me on the head, you ass."

Vergil shook his head as I finished with why I'd nabbed the kid. "He's undoubtedly someone of import," Vergil said, "but that means this will certainly have some sort of fallout. It was foolish of you to take him like that."

"Perhaps," Dad offered, "but I do understand your reasoning. I'm not happy to learn Fortuna's soldiers were on our land. Technically, we are within our right to respond." His eyes darkened like a sudden storm. "Fortuna and I have an agreement about this."

"We were in Fortuna!"

Dad's brows shot up as he looked to the kid. It was the first time the kid had properly stood up for himself since we arrived. Either the blood loss was getting to him, or he was brave enough to talk back to a king.

"We were at the basin," I said again. "That's Capulet land."

"Indeed," Dad said.

The kid's eyes darted back and forth as though at war with his thoughts. "No-no, he said that was our land. He said there were demons we needed to clean out."

I couldn't help but butt in. "Did a good job with that, didn't you?"

Dad quieted me with a glance before turning back to the kid. "Who ordered this?"

The kid sank his teeth into his lower lip and hid his gaze in the corner of the room. He must have said too much.

"It was the church, wasn't it?" Vergil prodded. "Likely they were attempting to swipe some land away from us."

"Yet the men they sent seemed untrained in fighting demons," Dad countered. Their eyes were locked on the kid, who couldn't have looked guiltier if he'd tried. "And most importantly, who are you? You are someone notable, aren't you?"

"No," the kid said in a whisper, eyes still glued to that corner.

"Give up, Kid," I offered. "Lying to my father never works out."

"Did you bring his sword?" Dad asked.

My hand came up to meet my forehead. "Ah damn, I left it. It was pretty too. All ornamental and flashy. No one else had one like it."

Kid's shoulders were up by his ears. I had a feeling he wanted to snap at me, but he kept quiet. I guessed Dad wanted the sword to see if it had a crest on it showing the kid's house or rank. Soldiers tended to dress alike so leaders wouldn't stand out. The kid's armor wasn't notable, but his sword certainly had been.

"This leaves two possibilities," Dad said. "Either you're a high-ranking church official, which I doubt considering your age and fighting ability, or you're that mythical prince I've heard so much about."

I snorted a laugh. "Ah yes, their magic angel prince."

Even when I'd heard that as a kid, I knew it was nonsense. Our messengers had burst into our dining hall at breakfast, gasping quick apologies for the intrusion. "Fortuna's royal family is dead," they'd reported. "The church is saying it must have been an assassination."

Dad took another bite of potatoes as he considered this. Despite his calm demeanor, I could see a war behind his eyes. Mom stared down at her food, her hand across her mouth as though it had made her sick. I didn't know enough at the age of seven to understand what was wrong, but I could tell that damage had been done.

"Who's next in line for the throne?" Dad asked.

"The church say the King and Queen's newborn son survived the attack."

My father so rarely showed annoyance that I was left stunned when he clicked his tongue. "Naturally." He seemed to spit the word. "Even if that is true, the boy won't rise to power for some time. I'm certain they would delay giving him the crown. The church will have total control until then. They would undoubtedly train the boy to be their puppet as well."

The messengers looked hesitant to continue, glancing between each other until one swallowed and spoke up. "The church is also saying the child is...blessed."

Dad looked dizzy for a moment, like he'd taken a blow to the head. "Blessed by what? They worship a demon." Him, actually. They worshiped him. Time had erased that fact, but it still irked Dad to no end.

"They said the child was blessed with divine power from their god. He is beyond human."

"Of course," Dad sighed. "Of course. They need to draw attention away from the murders and keep the faith of their people."

Vergil spoke up, his eyes sharp with questions. "But if it's all lies, won't they get caught?"

"Yeah!" I added, not wanting to be left out.

But neither Mom nor Dad responded, their eyes far off in some worry. I never understood it, but I guess I never cared to. As long as Fortuna didn't bother us, I didn't care what they did.

Thankfully, I wasn't inheriting the throne, so I didn't have to care.

Vergil did, though. As did my father, and Dad wasn't laughing at his own joke as he stared down the kid. But he had to be joking. This kid wasn't the prince. There was no prince. Even Vergil rolled his eyes at the idea, or he would have rolled his eyes had he not taken all those etiquette classes seriously.

"Father, the boy is likely the son of some church official, given rank through nepotism." He was bringing out the big words today. "The 'prince' is nothing but fabrication by the church."

The kid's gaze snapped up like the lash of a whip. "Then who kills the demons at the festivals!?"

Vergil's expression didn't change under the kid's fiery glare. "The festivals? You mean when they bring the supposed-prince out masked and give him a low-level demon to kill for a crowd? Anyone can kill a demon. You don't need divine power to do it."

"They aren't low-level!" the kid said.

"Regardless, why mask the prince each time if not to falsify his identity?"

"It's a masque festival! Everyone wears masks!"

I could sense something building from the kid. It felt like water steadily filling the room, a massive, smothering pressure that would shatter at any moment. Dad must have noticed too because he stood from his chair, about to say something.

The kid's hands shot to the wound on his head. He seemed to stare at nothing, but he kept on in a snarl, "If they saw my face, they'd know who to kill. Just like my parents. They'd kill me too, those bastards. Have to stay hidden. Have to…"

All at once, the pressure vanished as the kid's eyes rolled back and he collapsed to the stone floor.

"Huh," I said. "So he is the prince?"

"Dante, why didn't you catch him?" Dad said in his usual lecture voice.

"Don't blame this all on me. Vergil could have teleported over."

"You were within arm's length of him," Vergil said with a shrug. "But that's beyond the point. If this boy truly is their prince, it seems Dante has started a war."

"Why is everything my fault today?" I asked, crossing my arms. "He was on our land. If anything, they started the war."

Dad's eyes were still locked on the kid. He seemed to be working out a puzzle in his head. "These are odd circumstances," he said at length. "I will investigate further and hope Fortuna does nothing rash. In the meantime, we will need to look after this boy properly. He is royalty, after all. He must be treated respectably."

Stepping out from behind his desk, he knelt at the kid's side and snapped the rope around the kid's wrists apart. The kid didn't react. Must have been out cold this round.

"You really think he's royalty?" I asked as Dad scooped the kid up into a carry. Kid probably would have been furious about it had he been conscious.

"He looks nothing like Fortuna's former king or queen," Dad said, still frowning at the boy's face. Kid almost looked like a different person without all the anger twisting his expression. "And he's certainly not divine, but I do not doubt that he thinks he is royalty. If there is one thing that damned church is good at, it is tricking the foolish and naive."

I put on a wry smile. "Are you sure he's not yours?"

Dad didn't seem to appreciate the joke, stealing my smile by shoving the kid into my arms. "You'll be in charge of looking after him since you brought him. Ensure he is well taken care of. See to that head wound."

With that, he stepped around me and left the room.

"Wait, me?" I said to the empty doorway. "He hates me. What if he tries to kill me? Shouldn't one of you-"

Vergil brushed past me as well. "If he tries to kill you, you'll have most certainly done something to deserve it."

"Love you too, Brother," I called to his back.

He tossed a lazy wave over his shoulder. "I'll be rooting for him."

I had such a supportive family.

Looking down at the kid, I wondered if he'd always been so pale. Taking care of his wound would need to be priority one since the cut on his forehead had cracked back open. Priority two was a bath.

The guards at the gate said my retainers returned before I did. Not surprising. They tended to get fed-up with me when I ran off on my own. That meant I would need to tread lightly if I wanted help fixing up the kid.

"Hey, Lady," I called, knocking on her door with my foot. "Don't shoot. I have an innocent."

The door snapped inward to reveal my favorite murderous human, her crossbow leaning on her shoulder. "I could have hit you without causing him harm," she said, frowning as her dual-toned eyes swept over the kid. "Why does he look like you?"

"Still working that out," I said. "Hard to get answers out of him while he's zonked out. I was hoping you could help me make him less corpse-y."

"Does he have demon blood?"

"Maybe."

After a tense few seconds in which she was likely deciding whether to kill the kid or me or both, she took a step back so I could enter the room. "Put him on the floor."

I figured the pretty-boy prince wouldn't mind not being allowed on her bed while unconscious, so I settled him on the rug. "Take off his armor," Lady added before kicking open the chest at the foot of her bed.

"I'm not really the kind of guy to do that while-" An arrow whizzed past my ear.

"Hard to see if he has any other wounds when he's covered in metal," she said as the crossbow went back to rest against her shoulder. "I'll get some sterilized water. If it's a proper head wound, there's not much I can do about it, but if he does have demon blood, it's not like it'll be a problem. Either way, I guess we'll just clean him up and check for anything that needs tending. But when I get back, you're telling me what the hell's going on." After yanking a bowl from the chest, she snapped it shut with another forceful kick and stormed out.

That left me to contend with the armor. Easier said than done considering the kid was smothered in the stuff. No one in Capulet bothered with it. Demons were quick and could pierce metal easily. Armor just weighed you down. Fortuna's armor in-particular had so many ornate details that half the weight was probably from all the feathery detailing. Kid looked like a duck with all those white feathers.

Getting it on must have been a pain in the ass too because taking it off was like one of Vergil's logic puzzles. "How many buckles?" I grumbled after managing to pry off the plating on his left arm. "How many locks and snaps and straps could you need? I'm glad I've never tried to take one of you bastards to bed, or I'd never get any."

The chest plate wasn't any easier, and Lady returned to find me wriggling him free of it. "Now's not the time to make a show of it, Dante."

"Well, you know me." I cracked a smile through my annoyance. "I'm all about that foreplay."

Though she rolled her eyes, Lady gave up a snort for my joke. The bucket dropped a hair from the kid's ear before she set to work not-so-gently scrubbing the dirt and flaking blood from his face. "So who's your small clone?" she asked.

"Vergil?"

With her usual glare, she shoved the rag back in the water and wrung it out about how I imagined she wanted to twist my neck.

"You mean the kid? I dunno." Reaching across him, I grabbed the wrist of his other plated arm. "He might be Fortuna's prince or something."

She didn't react at first, didn't seem to notice I'd spoken. She kept scrubbing at that cut until her head snapped up. "Where's the joke?"

"Honest."

Her eyes narrowed, so I mimed an X over my heart.

I couldn't say I expected the snickering fit that erupted from her. Lady only ever laughed at my expense. "Holy shit!" she wheezed. "This is him? Fortuna's angel boy? He's demonic!"

I still wasn't so sure. I'd felt something from him, some pulse of energy, but it wasn't demonic. I doubted it was divine either, though.

"He's not your father's bastard child too, is he?" she asked. "That would really be the cherry on top."

"I wouldn't make any bets on that." That didn't seem like something Dad would have done twenty-odd years ago, but maybe I just didn't want to believe it. As I finally managed to unlatch the top clasp around his arm, a vise snapped around my wrist.

"What are you doing?" the kid said in a voice that rasped enough to be a growl.

"Trying to get rid of all your damn chastity belts." I found it hard to keep my smile when I looked down to find fear in his eyes. "We're just checking you for wounds," I clarified. "The armor was in the way."

But his arm still wrenched from my grasp, his bare hand undoing all my hard work with a deft flick of his fingers. Lady let him sit up without complaint, but her eyes seemed to be trying to dissect him. He appraised her for a half-second before turning back to me.

"Where am I?"

"In my room," Lady said. "I don't think you should be the one asking the questions here, Your Highness."

The kid froze, taught as a pulled bow string.

"Yeah, I think the blood loss made you tell all," I said, "though I never did get your name."

He seemed poised to make a break for it at any moment. "You don't need it."

Putting on my best smile, I placed my fingers under his chin and leaned in close with a wink. "Then should I call you mine?"

He jerked back, his expression screwed up with bafflement. "What? I don't want your name!"

"Well, it's a good thing he's pretty," Lady said.

I shrugged. "I can just keep calling you kid."

I could almost see all the deaths he was planning for me behind those seething eyes. "Nero," he spat. "My name is Nero."

"Well then it's a pleasure, Nero. I'm Dante." I offered a hand that he looked at as though it were poisoned.

He seemed to have instantly rethought his decision to give up his name. Once again, he tried to puff himself up like a hissing cat. "Fuck off!"

"I like him," I said to Lady.

She rolled her eyes. "God, you would."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So which guy do you want Nero to get with?"
> 
> Yes.


	2. Where We Lay Our Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Nero has a bad time. I mean, that's every chapter but

"I can walk, you know."

I was getting sick of hanging over Dante's shoulder. With my elbows jammed into his shoulder blade, I rested my chin in my hands and eyed the claymore at his back. I didn't have the best angle to try stabbing him with it, but it was always an option.

"Can't have you straining yourself after all the work Lady put into patching you up," he said.

She'd slapped a bandage across my forehead. I could have done that much myself.

After waking up, I found that the world had stopped doubling. For the most part, the dizziness was gone. My arm was still itching like crazy, but that no-doubt stemmed from Dante's refusal to leave me the Hell alone.

"Besides," he added with a flourish of his hand. "If I put you down, you'd try to run off. Then you'd get lost, and I'd have to find you. It would just be a big ordeal."

He wasn't wrong about the running away part. The moment the bastard was out of sight, I was getting out of this hellhole. "I wouldn't get lost," I grumbled too low for him to hear.

"Please, Kid, I still get lost in this place."

Seemed it was best to keep my mouth shut.

He turned, and a door creaked open. When he stepped through the doorway, I found the opposite wall lined with an impossible array of weapons. They all shone as though brand new - swords of every breed, gauntlets, axes, bows. I didn't notice myself reaching for one until the pointed fingertips of my armor came within a breath of a blade.

"Behave," Dante called. I jerked my hand back on instinct, though he said nothing else on the matter. It seemed like he was talking to someone else.

"Is this where I'm going to be tortured for information?" I asked.

With a quick tug, he yanked me from his shoulder and dropped me to the floor. That obnoxious smile was cracked across his face. "Nah, we already did the interrogation. I just needed somewhere to put you while I go take a bath."

Never letting him out of the edge of my sight, I glanced around the room. It was someone's bedroom - clearly used. The massive bed's red blankets were rumpled. Muddy boots and old leather holsters lined the floor. Excepting the wall tiled with weapons, the place was a mess.

My lip twitched toward a snarl. "This is your room, isn't it?"

"You know me too well," he said with a shrug.

Had he not been between me and the weapons, I would have gone for one right then. "I'm not staying in here with you." I wasn't staying anywhere. I needed to get out.

He leaned forward till we were even in height and far too close for my liking. Though he was still smiling, it was calm instead of playful. His eyes showed a tinge of weariness. "Kid, we're getting you a room set up right now. Take it easy. No one here is going to hurt you or try anything weird."

My eyes narrowed. "You've already done both those things."

He burst into a barking laugh as he straightened himself. "Alright, alright, but I'm done too. I'll behave after this. I don't need Dad lecturing me on formalities or something. Just stay here. I'll be right back." Just as he turned and I thought I was finally rid of him, he spun on his heels. "Oh! Unless you want to come bathe with me," he said with a wink.

He would have been much better minus one eye so he couldn't wink anymore.

"I hope you drown," I said, already calculating which weapon I would steal to end him.

"You and everyone else," he called, shutting the door behind him.

The room was dim, no candles lit and the last rays of daylight peering in from the small windows along the far wall - too small to fit through.

But the weapons seemed to glow, as though they soaked up what little light there was. As intriguing as most of the weapons were, I had no experience with gauntlets, knives, or… whatever that purple thing was. Though I'd trained myself on a crossbow, a ranged weapon wouldn't do me much good in the cramped castle walls. Even most of the swords were out of the question. For a moment, I wondered what idiot would try to fight with some of them, but then I remembered who I was dealing with.

Yet that idiot had gotten the better of me on a battlefield. I could make excuses all I wanted, but he'd knocked me flat in one quick motion. He could have killed me without much of a fight had he wanted to. I would not give him the opportunity again.

My only real option was the longsword. Even as the simplest weapon on the wall, the hilt was more detailed than that of my Red Queen. Dante was one to talk about my sword sticking out, the bastard.

With a steadying sigh, I stepped up to the wall. I didn't want to kill Dante- Well, I did, but I wasn't going to go out of my way to do it. If he or anyone else tried to stop me, though, I would do what I had to. As my fingers closed around the dragon-winged hilt, a buzz rose up my arm. It felt like an angry swarm of bees writhing under my armor. When I tried to level my grip with my bare hand, pain ripped my other arm apart, like the sword had turned to bite me.

"Fuck," I hissed, ripping my bare hand away. The other stayed. I wasn't certain I wanted it to, but I couldn't bring myself to pull away. I needed the sword, after all. I was strong enough to wield it one-handed. Its weird tricks couldn't stop me. Maybe it was built with some unsavory contraption or something - didn't matter. I could handle it. I needed it.

The door cracked open without resistance. Either he trusted me not to try escaping, or he didn't expect me to be successful. I'd been too dizzy and unconscious to track our path through the castle initially, not for lack of trying, but I'd lived in a castle all my life. I could find an exit, or I'd kill everyone trying.

The hall looked the same in both directions, lined with cold gray stone. We'd come from the right. I could recall that much. With the sword trailing at my side, I dashed that way on the tips of my toes.

The hall branched at the end, but I kept straight to follow a descending staircase. That brought me to another hall that looked identical to the first. No wonder Dante said he got lost. At least in my castle we had obnoxious paintings and statues all over the place to mark location. Swallowing a growl, I started down the hall.

Despite the occasional whispers I heard behind closed doors, I didn't run into anyone. At each connecting hall, I paused at the corner to check for patrols. The most I saw were a couple stragglers whom I slipped past without trouble. They didn't seem to be paying any attention, which was lucky for them. If they'd spotted me, I wouldn't have hesitated in silencing them. My head rushed too much for anything but desperate instinct.

This was too easy. Worryingly easy. I was waiting to turn a corner and find a wall of soldiers. There were always patrols back home. Nowhere safe to run. Nowhere to hide.

The halls blurred together. The sun must have gone down because I found no source of outside light to follow. I felt like I was going in circles, but there must have been a door to the outside somewhere. I had to find it. I would not play pawn to Capulet bastards.

I would not be held captive.

Not again.

Never again.

"Hey, kid!"

I hadn't closed my eyes, yet they snapped open. My arm was on fire, the pain near-blinding, yet Dante's eyes pierced through into my vision. As the pain faded to angry pulses, I found Dante's brow furrowed. A serious expression looked odd on him.

"You back?" he asked.

Back where? I couldn't seem to move. I felt heavy- No, he was heavy. The floor was at my back, and Dante hung over me. His knee was crushed against my chest. His grip must have been on my wrists because it tightened when I tried to pull free.

"Answer me," he said. "Then I'll let you go."

"Why aren't you wearing a shirt!?" I demanded. I was going to kill him.

Just like that, a smile snapped back into his eyes. "I was just taking a bath, remember? You're lucky I'm wearing anything." He was wearing some fancy robe, but it hardly counted when it wasn't tied.

"Get off of me!"

"Right, I know I said I'd do that." His gaze flicked up. "But can you let go of Alastor first?"

"Who!? What the hell? Just let go of me!" There was too much skin. No one should have been okay with being so naked. All the fire from my arm had moved to my face. I didn't want to think. I just wanted to get away.

Dante sighed. "The sword, kid. Just open your hand."

My hands snapped open, palms up. I'd forgotten all about the sword, not that it was doing me much good at this point. The weight left me all at once as Dante hopped up, the sword lying across his hands. He glanced at it from hilt to tip with one brow raised. Still wasn't tying his damn robe shut.

As I scrambled to my feet, I leaned against the nearby wall so I wouldn't have to look at him. I didn't want to talk to him either. Trying to run sounded tempting, but now he had the weapon, and I wasn't certain I trusted my body to get me anywhere.

"Feeling okay?" Dante asked.

"Why were you on me?" I asked. A tested glance showed that he'd finally tied his robe. Not tight enough - I could still see way too much of his chest - but it would have to do.

His answer followed a pause. "You had a weapon. Considering how often you've said you want to kill me, I thought it would be better to take it before waking you up, but you weren't keen on letting go. Guess you liked Alastor."

Though I tried to hold my tongue between my teeth, the question escaped me. "What happened?"

"You must have passed out again." He didn't look at me as he answered. "I told you to be careful with that head wound. Your room's probably set up by now, so why don't I take you there? I'll have some food brought up to you if you want."

He was being too nice, acting as though I was their guest. If I couldn't leave, I was no guest. I was their prisoner. I couldn't allow myself to trust any kindness, but I would have to play along for now.

"I'll follow you, but you can't carry me," I said.

He held up his hands in surrender. "Fine-fine."

"And you'd better put on some clothes."

His lips tugged to a smirk. "Sorry, I know I'm terribly distracting like this."

"Shut up before I punch that smug look off your face."

That just made him laugh. He wasn't helping his case, but I followed him as he started down the hall. I still struggled to find any way to mark the path we took.

"Hey," I said as we reached the stairs.

"Hm?"

"What's up with that sword?"

"Alastor?" The flat of the blade rested against his shoulder, and he showed no signs of being bothered by holding it bare-handed.

"You can't tell me that's a normal sword," I said.

Dante blinked. "Oh, was he giving you a hard time? He's finicky about being held." With a smooth flick of his arm he brought the blade down. The air shattered with noise, like all the windows in the place had broken at once. Flashes of blinding blue shot from the blade. My arm burst into pain almost as bright as the sparks.

Dante looked back at me with a grin as I patted down my static-infused hair. "Does it have some sort of generator?" I asked.

Dante looked at me like I'd asked which way was up. "Uh, it has a demon that generates its power, so...yes?"

"What?"

"You were able to hold him though," Dante said, turning to continue up the stairs. "That's impressive."

I guessed he was joking. That seemed like something he would do. I'd heard of demons possessing all types of objects, but they never stayed quiet about it. Each time the church brought me something possessed to kill, I could hear the demon whispering. There was no way a demon would allow itself to be used without retribution. They were too prideful for that.

I bet the sword was just like one of Agnus', made with some weird contraptions like Red Queen. Maybe Dante was too stupid to understand that, or he was just being an ass.

Maybe both.

Despite all that time I'd spent wandering around downstairs, we made it back upstairs in a few minutes. I really was going in circles.

We stopped at the door beside his, which I was none too happy about. The room was fine, a sparse copy of Dante's with gray bedding. "Why am I next to you?" I asked.

"In case you need anything," he said.

That was a blatant lie, but I kept my mouth shut. I even stayed in the room when he went to change and fetch us food. I was hungry enough not to try running again, and though the rabbit he brought back would have looked unappetizing any other time, I picked the little bones clean. The wine was harder to force myself to drink. Dante laughed every time the rotten taste made me gag. I could have asked for water, but I wasn't going to let him make fun of me further.

I wished he would leave so I could free my arm for a bit. Damned thing was itching so bad I kept flexing my hand open and shut.

"That armor doesn't seem very comfortable," Dante said around the rim of what must have been his fifth glass of wine. I was feeling fuzzy after one.

"It's fine," I said.

"Do you always wear it?"

"Yes."

Short responses would have been off-putting to any normal person, but Dante may have been the least reasonable person I'd ever met. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. "So do you really believe all this stuff about you being divine?"

No one in Fortuna would have even considered asking me something like that. Being a heretic was generally unpopular there, but people of Capulet didn't seem to give a damn. "Couldn't ask that a bit less condescending?" I muttered under my breath before raising my voice. "Are you actually Capulet's prince?"

His smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm one of them. My brother is the crown prince. Usually people follow up that question with something like 'You don't act very princely,' but I don't know that you have any room to talk."

He...had a point. But he'd also kidnapped me, so I wasn't going to let him know that.

"So since I answered your question," he continued, "back to mine. Do you believe you are divine?"

The more important question was why he cared what I thought. "Yes? I mean, yes."

His eyes shone with amusement. "Convincing."

I wanted to take that wine bottle and smack him with it. "Well, I'm not human!" I barked. That much had been obvious since my arm started changing. "No one can sense demons like I can. No one can kill them like I can either. It just makes sense."

Dante's gaze seemed to pierce through me. His smile was gone. "Kid, don't you think it's odd that we look alike?"

My hands curled into the gray bedcovers. Of course I thought it was odd. I'd been doing my best to ignore it. "Some people look alike," I said.

Sighing, he stood and walked up to me. I refused to meet his eyes as he leaned down to my level again. "People don't just share white hair, blue eyes and an ability to sense demons on coincidence, kid."

"Don't tell me you think we're related." He needed to stop getting close to me because the itch in my arm was near-unbearable when he was within inches.

"I don't. I'll just say that my father is a full-blooded demon. He hides it well, but I'm sure you could still tell."

I hadn't been certain through the dizziness, but I'd felt a weight in the air. He must have been powerful. "Sanctus always said Capulet's king was a devil," I murmured. "I thought he was exaggerating."

Out of the corner of my eyes, I could tell that Dante was holding back a laugh. "My brother and I inherited his blood. That's why we look the way we do. People tend to get us all mixed up."

I glanced down to find my armored hand digging through the blanket and into the bed. I felt if I released my grip, I would either kill Dante or… I wasn't sure. I would probably just kill him.

"You think I'm demonic," I said. "Just because we look alike? The first demons were fallen angels, so why wouldn't something divine look like something demonic?"

He straightened back up and spun on his heel to take a few lazy steps. His usual drawl returned to his voice. "That's a neat argument. Did your church tell you that? I bet Dad would get a kick out of it. Probably how they justify their 'God,' eh?" He waved his hand as though to brush away the topic. "Anyway, you said you can sense demonic power. So can I."

"If I were a demon, why would I fight demons?" I asked flatly.

"You're not a demon," he said, shrugging. "You may be demonic, but you've chosen to fight them instead of become one of them."

It occurred to me that I should have been frightened by him and his family if they were demons. But he was just so annoying. I didn't see how anyone could be afraid of him. His father and brother didn't seem frightening either from what I could remember, though that wasn't much.

"Whatever," I said. "Are you done? I want to sleep."

I didn't. I just wanted him gone.

Putting on what I guessed was supposed to be a puppy-dog look, he sighed and turned for the door. "Fine-fine. I'll let you sleep, but if you get lonely, I'm next door."

I was able to release my hold on the bed with him farther away, though I'd torn quite the hole in it. "I've been stuck with you all day," I grumbled. "I don't think I'll ever be lonely again. If I never see you again, it'll be too soon."

"You really know how to charm a guy. Goodnight, Nero," he said before slipping through the door.

"Goodnight," I sighed in relief, letting my shoulders fall slack. It was the first time I felt like I could breathe since the demons attacked.

My armor clattered to the floor after I released the latches. As soon as it fell away, the light from my arm brought a glow to the whole room. I'd never seen it so bright, a pulsing, white-blue. It was probably trying to warn me about the nearby demons. Too late for that.

After letting my arm breathe for a few minutes, I decided it wasn't going to stop being any less irritating. The room dimmed again as I slipped the glove and plating back on and cinched it into place. Sleeping in it was a pain in the ass, but I didn't trust Dante not to barge in as he pleased.

Luckily, that arm didn't sweat, but I still smelled like a goddamn horse all over. The rest of the armor did leave me covered in dried sweat. Not to mention all the dirt that damn horse had kicked up in my face. I almost wished I'd taken Dante up on that offer for a bath. Almost. A little dirt never killed anyone, but I was certain Dante had killed plenty.

I was exhausted enough that falling asleep was no issue. Waking up, however, reminded me how utterly desperate I was to bathe. I felt like I'd rolled around in a pigsty. I was gross. This was all Dante and that horse's fault.

I needed to find somewhere to bathe, not that I wanted anything to do with being naked in this hell castle, but I was desperate. I rolled out of bed to find early morning light streaming in through the small windows. It showed off what a mess my clothes had become. Fortuna's white uniform was pretty and all, but it seemed to attract dirt and mud the moment I stepped outside the castle. This was by-far the worst I'd ever seen it, though. I wanted to blame the horse for that too, but falling on my ass several times was a likely contributor.

Hoping to avoid Dante, I made quick work of straightening my bed and rushed downstairs. More people dotted the halls at this time, yet they still didn't spare me a second glance. I wondered if some dirty stranger in an enemy uniform was a common sight. I'd never had so many people see my face, but to them, I was nothing notable. Perhaps I shouldn't have felt so relieved.

Before I could even start my search for a bath and the exit, I jolted at a voice calling behind me. "Ah, Your Highness, you're up."

I spun to find the man I could only recall seeing as a purple blur the day before. And, damn, he was wearing an excessive amount of purple, like he'd been dunked in the red wine we had last night. He also wore a monocle, which stupid as the thing looked, I did wonder how he kept it in place. He wasn't quite as tall as Dante, but he was a head above me. From my vague recollections of yesterday, I remembered Dante calling him "Dad."

Dante had also called him a demon, but he was unlike any demon I'd been near. As he walked toward me, my arm reacted with a frenzy, like that sword's lightning had gone off inside it. My other hand shot to my arm to hold it down. Its pulse matched my racing heart until I felt certain either my arm or heart would burst.

Then, all at once, it stopped. My arm instead felt leaden, the air itself heavier. I looked up to see the king stopped a few paces away. His gaze flicked up from my arm to meet my eyes. "Apologies," he said. "I prefer to keep my energy hidden around the humans here, but it seems to trouble you."

"What?" was all I could manage.

A calm smile graced his features. "I've smothered your senses a bit is all. Do not think too much on it."

That made me want to ask more questions, but he gave me no time to voice them.

"I've realized I was so caught up yesterday that I never did properly introduce myself. You may call me Sparda." He bowed his head in greeting as I worked to line up a coherent thought.

"You're the king?" I asked. Stupid question, but I was still too dazed for much else.

His smile faded. "That's what I'm told. Could I have your name?"

Giving your name out to demons was generally a bad idea. Dante already had it, though, so I doubted things could get much worse.

"Nero," I said.

"It is a pleasure, Nero." His smile returned, nothing like Dante's. Sparda's was friendlier, like how the maids back home greeted me. "Would you care to come to breakfast with me? Dante never wakes in time."

"I was hoping for a bath," I mumbled, scratching at my nose with the clawed tips of my armor.

"I will have one drawn for you while you eat."

I understood then that his smile veiled a threat. He was only asking to be polite. I didn't have a choice. Demons didn't like to take no for an answer, so I should have anticipated the same from him.

I followed him to a massive dining hall with a few people eating or milling about. He sat us alone at the edge of a table as I was starting to wish Dante would make one of his obnoxious appearances. A young woman brought us plates and nodded when Sparda asked for a bath for me.

"You seem nervous," Sparda said once she'd left.

I couldn't imagine where he'd gotten that idea. I sat up straight in my chair, so straight I couldn't get myself to move. I stared at my food instead. "I've never eaten breakfast with a demon," I admitted.

He nodded. "On the whole, I would not recommend it. But I mean you no harm. I am working to have you returned to Fortuna, in exchange for reparations, of course."

That was just a nice way of saying they were holding me for a ransom. Forcing myself to grab my fork, I poked at whatever it was they had brought me for breakfast. Cheese and… some sort of fruit? At least I recognized the bread.

"Why aren't you holding me in a dungeon or something?" I asked. "I'm your prisoner after all."

"I see no point. Your only crime was trespassing unaware, and you killed some demons for us. As long as you cause no trouble, you are welcome to move about the castle as you wish. Besides, we don't have a dungeon."

I thought all castles had dungeons. Mine did. I had to suppress a shudder just thinking about it. So many people went down there and few came back. The idea that a demon king didn't have one was absurd, but maybe he killed most prisoners.

"So you are a demon?" I asked.

"Yes," he said as though I'd asked if he liked his food.

"And Dante is…?"

"He is half demon. As is Vergil."

"Vergil?"

"Ah, I suppose you were not properly introduced to him either. He is my other son."

"Oh, the crown prince." Dante had mentioned him. He must have been the angry blue blur from yesterday.

Sparda nodded. As I watched him, he ate the same plate as I did. Demons could eat normal food, but…

"So do you eat people?" I asked.

His hand slapped across his mouth, but his shoulders still bounced with laughter. That had to be a yes. He definitely ate people.

"Is that what your church says about me?" he asked from between his fingers. His eyes shone with the same amusement as Dante's always did. "For the record, I do not, but I almost appreciate your church making me more formidable than I am."

"The church didn't say that," I grumbled. "That's just what demons do. Everyone knows that."

"Demons vary greatly," he said.

"Demons kill people. It doesn't matter what variety they come in. That's what they do." I couldn't stop myself from glaring at him, though his gaze remained steady.

"I will concede that killing humans is the goal of many demons. I will not argue that a majority of demons are worthy of anything more than a quick death, but demonic power can be harnessed in ways that aid humanity. Humans themselves can also use it for horrible misdeeds." He looked to my hidden arm, frowning.

Like he had any room to judge me. He didn't know anything. He was a demon, and a king at that. He controlled thousands of humans, the bastard. He was only right when he said demons deserved death, and I would kill him. I'd-

"Are you alright?"

Like the night before, I felt as though I reopened my eyes, once again met with the endless stare of cold blue.

"Yes," I said. Though I could feel my arm pulsing again, it was my normal arm this time. I looked down to find my fist covered in water and shards of glass.

"I will venture to say otherwise," Sparda said. His hands closed over mine, and the heaviness in the air pressed down on me like a blanket. Despite every part of me screaming to pull my hand away, I allowed him to open my fist and pluck the shards of glass from my skin. Ribbons of blood trailed down my arm and dripped to the table. I bit my tongue to subdue the pricks of pain, though Sparda was so deft that it didn't linger.

"Are you prone to bouts of anger?" he asked as he whipped his cravat from around his neck and tied it around my hand.

"No more than anyone else, I guess." That wasn't entirely true, but the stabbing myself with bits of glass was new. Now that I thought about it, though, I hadn't taken my medicine last night. I couldn't. I'd left it in Blue Rose's saddle.

Credo was going to be spitting mad when I got back.

I stopped myself from telling Sparda. I didn't need a demon knowing I was ailing in any way, even if he was willing to take care of my wounds. Demons never aided anyone without expecting something in return.

"Make sure you clean those cuts out when you bathe," he said. "I will have proper bandages brought to you, though if you find yourself bleeding greatly, please do not keep your hand in the water."

I stared at my hand, at his fancy silk cravat soaking up my blood. "I'll need a change of clothes," I murmured.

"Ah, you're right. I'll see to it that some are brought to you. We'll have your uniform washed as well."

Demons never aided anyone without expecting something in return.

But I didn't know what he wanted from me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Those demonic growing pains are rough. Blackouts, breaking things, attempted murder. It's a time.


	3. From Ancient Grudge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have written this fic entirely for one of the scenes in this chapter. Also, you know what's weird? Lawful Good Vergil.

If that boy broke my library window, I would break him.

He'd risen to his toes, looking for an angle that would show him the ground far below the glass. It seemed that aiming for the lower level doors had failed him, so he'd come to look upstairs. Dante needed to get a proper leash for him.

"The courtyard is below," I said. He'd been so caught up in his inspections that he startled at my voice, his hand reaching for a sword that was not there. "It is walled and guarded on each side. Trying to escape that way would be foolish, and even if you were to succeed, do you know which direction to go to reach Fortuna?"

He turned to fully face me, but the sharp anger in his eyes snapped to confusion. "You're…?"

I stepped from the doorway to the bookshelf filled with aging parchments. "You don't have much in the way of manners, do you?" I said as I skimmed the scrolls. Father never put anything back where it went.

"I-!" he started in anger. When he didn't say anything further, I looked up to find him attempting to stare a hole through me. "Apologies, your royal highness. I'm Prince Nero of Fortuna." He spoke through gritted teeth, and his bow was clearly an attempt at mocking me, overly low and sweeping. "You must be the crown prince of Capulet. It's a pleasure." The forced smile did not hold up well alongside his twitching eye. Still, it was a start.

"Correct. I am Prince Vergil."

I felt that was all that needed to be said between us and went back to pulling the needed documents from the shelves. The boy thought otherwise. "I could figure it out!"

"Hm?"

"The way to Fortuna. I could find it."

"Perhaps, though I do not understand your fixation on escaping. You are being treated well, and you will be returned shortly. Father is being too soft with you, honestly."

"Treated well?" he grumbled. "Have you met your brother? He's a devil."

I pulled a dusty book from another shelf and tucked it under my arm. "Only half."

"What?" His head tilted like a curious dog's. "Are you sure you're related? You sure don't act alike."

Examining his expression, I waited to see some sign of a joke. When one didn't come, it became apparent he was just stupid. "He and I are identical twins. Unfortunately, it is impossible to deny that we are related."

His head tilted further. "Twins?"

"We were born at the same time."

"How does that work?"

I didn't have time to sit and teach the boy something I doubted he would understand. "It is of little consequence. You may think of me as the elder brother, as I have the crown. Because Dante has never had such responsibilities, he does tend to act the fool. I would suggest you stand up to him should he give you too much trouble, but he would likely prefer it. All he ever wants to do is fight."

The boy's brow furrowed at this. "Isn't a prince supposed to fight? That's all I've ever done. You're supposed to fight to protect your people."

Before I could begin to explain to him what a pawn he was, Dante came bounding into the room. The boy tried to run, but too late. Dante's arm hooked around his neck. "There you are!" my brother said with his usual grin. "I was starting to think you'd run off and gotten attacked by demons again."

"I'm being attacked by you right now!" The boy attempted to free himself, but Dante was all-but strangling him with his grasp.

Dante looked up from his harassment of the boy to belatedly notice me. "Well, I guess I wasn't wrong. I'm always saving you from something, kid."

"I did nothing to him," I said.

"You haven't saved me from anything!" At the boy's words, a wave of demonic power crashed through the room. When he'd arrived a week before, the power that came from his anger was thin, baseless. Though I'd assumed it to be demonic in nature, it had no true substance to it. Something had changed since then. We needed to be rid of this boy sooner rather than later.

"Alright-alright," Dante said. Despite his relaxed demeanor, I could see the concern in his eyes. "How about we get you some fresh air for a bit?"

The power subsided in an instant, and the boy stopped struggling. "Outside?"

"Sure, we'll go out in the courtyard and spar for a bit. You can blow off some steam."

"The courtyard!?"

Dante dragged the screeching boy from the room. If my brother continued antagonizing him, I felt certain things would not end well. But that would be his own doing.

Father was staring out the window of his study when I returned, his dried quill tapping at the still-blank parchment. Dante and the boy were visible out the window. They appeared to be arguing over which weapons to use. The boy gestured to the practice swords, then to Dante's Rebellion with quick waves of his arms. Perhaps he understood that it would be an unfair fight between the two.

After I cleared my throat, Father sat upright. He masked his troubled expression with a smile. "Did you find them?" he asked.

"I did." The scrolls dropped to the table in a chorus of whispers. "I see you've been making progress."

His shoulders went taut. "I made a draft!"

"And?"

"It… wasn't right. I needed to start over." To avoid my stare, he unraveled one of the scrolls. It was an age-old treaty from when Fortuna first recognized Capulet and its borders. Father's signature had not changed since then.

"If you continue putting this off, Fortuna will become restless," I said. "Why are you so hesitant to return this boy? Because he has demonic power?"

He turned back to the window, through which Dante and the boy fought with clashing blades. Dante was toying with the boy, slipping away from strikes that had an intent to kill, all with a smile.

"I heard some time ago that Fortuna was experimenting with demons," Father said, "trying to make their own, something they could control."

He'd never mentioned this. I wanted to scold him for keeping something from me, but I was too curious to interrupt.

"I thought they would be unsuccessful, that there was no way anything could come out of such a project. At worst, I believed they might summon a demon that would be too powerful for them to contain."

"You believe that boy to be some success of theirs?" I asked.

"I'm afraid that might be the case, which means they may be able to make more like him. Even more troubling, he seems as though he may have been made with some of my blood."

I raised a brow. "And that's not just-?"

"He's not mine," Father said with a sigh. "About twenty years ago. That would have been…"

Just before Mother was killed. I would believe Father for now on this matter. It angered me too much otherwise.

"Regardless, if we don't return him, Fortuna will start that war they've always wanted," I said. "They have been itching for an excuse to take better agricultural land."

"Why can't humans share?" Father grumbled.

"That's rich coming from a demon."

"Oh, hush. I know I must return him, and doing so would be a good means of having Fortuna renew the treaties in a more public manner, but I fear for Nero's safety."

"You're growing attached to him?" Between Father and Dante, we would never be rid of the boy. How troublesome.

This time, Father met my disapproval head-on, returning my stare. "In the end, I will do what is best for the people of this land. That is the oath I took, but if Fortuna is toying in matters that could bring ruin, handing over someone who may be the key to that ruin would be irresponsible of me."

"Then you also expect the boy to go berserk." It was not a question. I believed we'd all come to that conclusion.

He hesitated, his lips pressed tight, his gaze lost to a war in his thoughts. Before he could respond, another wave of energy flared out around us, strong enough to make me stagger. Yamato rattled in its sheath until my hand shot to hold it still. The boy was furious. I didn't need to look through the window to see it, but even as I tried to, I saw only a blinding wall of light, like a massive lightning strike.

I heard the window shatter like some twisted wind chime, but Father had pulled me down without my noticing. He held me as though I were still some small child he could shield. The glass rained down around us as his own demonic energy swelled. He stood and stalked toward the empty window. The red in his eyes matched that of the blood at his back. It dripped from shards of glass embedded into his skin. Within seconds, though, the glass was pushed out by nothing, the wounds sealed.

As I wondered if Dante had truly gotten himself killed this time, I regained my feet. Through the clouds of kicked-up dirt, I caught sight of my brother, Rebellion poised at the boy's neck. Dante's stance was not to spar. For once, his expression was serious. He seemed prepared to kill the boy.

I knew he wouldn't.

For his part, the boy's face was about the shade of his hair, his eyes wide. He had no mind for Dante or the sword at his throat, only his armored arm, which he held tight across his chest. His other hand gripped the arm as though it might try to tear itself away.

When I looked at Father, the red was gone from his eyes, replaced by bleeding worry. Dante eased his sword down, saying something I could not hear at a distance. The boy did not seem to hear either. He took two staggered steps back before turning away. He managed three more steps before he collapsed.

Dante caught him this time.

* * *

For the past several nights, dinner was marked by the boy and Dante bickering, Father chiming in on occasion. Tonight, however, it seemed I would be able to eat in relative peace. Father was too busy pouring over an old book to say anything, and Dante was nowhere to be seen.

Unfortunately, my peace did not last, as Dante appeared wearing his grin once again. "I got him to agree to come down," he said, plopping down into his seat. "He said he would if I left him alone."

"So you harassed the boy until he relented?" I said. If nothing else, Dante had skill at getting his way. I couldn't approve of his methods, but he got results.

"His name is Nero, Verge."

"What does it matter? You never call him by name."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you knew what it was."

Father spoke up over us. "I believe his demonic power is just now manifesting, but it is a great deal of power all at once. It is no wonder he would have such poor control."

Dante's story of what had happened was vague at best, but I gathered that the boy's anger had boiled over from Dante's taunting. My brother had been hoping that releasing that anger would ease the unstable demonic energy from the boy, but it must have come out in a massive burst.

That had been enough to wipe the boy out, at least. He had been too weak to stand when I last saw him, but if he was well enough to make it down to dinner on his own, he had recovered quickly. It was for the best. I'd seen enough of my brother fretting for one day.

"Just now manifesting?" Dante echoed. "How could that happen?"

"Perhaps it was dormant and being around us awakened something?" I offered. "Our demonic nature reacted with his?"

Father's frown deepened. "That could be the case; however, I have a feeling Fortuna may have been doing something to suppress his power. He clearly had inhuman ability before coming here."

"Yeah, and that first time he got mad, it wasn't demonic. It was all..." Dante waved his hands in some nonsense explanation for what he couldn't describe, but I understood. "So what are we going to do about it?"

" _We_  shouldn't do anything about it," I said. "We should return him to Fortuna. They can deal with whatever they have brought upon themselves."

Father idly chewed his food, his eyes rolled up in thought. "No, if he's this powerful, I don't want him unstable and that close to a Hell gate."

I looked to Dante to be sure he was equally confused by this information. He returned my gaze with raised brows.

"There is a Hell gate in Fortuna?" I asked.

Realizing his err, Father turned to us with a tentative smile. "I suppose I hadn't mentioned it."

"You did not," I said.

"But it's closed, right?" Dante pressed.

Father nodded a bit too quickly. "It is sealed. I sealed it myself. I would just be concerned given Nero's power..."

I couldn't imagine how the boy could unseal a Hell gate, regardless of his power. For all I knew, Father could have been making this up as an excuse. But if he were determined enough to lie, I had no chance of getting through to either of them anymore. Something would need to be done about the boy.

"Can we train him then?" Dante asked. "I thought a fight would work, but I think it just made him angrier. He was all flared up again when I left him upstairs."

Father hummed in thought before responding. "Have you tried sleeping with him?"

Dante's fork froze in front of his open mouth. My hand found my face. "Father," I sighed.

"Dad…" Dante said.

Father did not take either hint. "Young demons have so much energy. Fights tend to just rile them up more, but sex burns them out pretty well, especially if they sleep with a more powerful demon. You like to have sex, right Dante?"

"Father, please, we're eating." Not that I had much of an appetite anymore. I stabbed my fork into my food over and over in an effort to quell my annoyance.

Dante seemed to be trying to lean as far from the conversation as possible. "I could have gone my entire life without hearing you bring up sex, Dad."

Father - my wise, ages-old father - appeared confused. "Well, it doesn't necessarily have to be sex if you aren't interested in him. As long as he gets-"

"Not the point," Dante rushed to say over him. "Not even close to the point. You've missed the point so bad, you've shot right into orbit."

"Honestly, when has Dante ever not been interested in someone?" I muttered.

"I don't see-" Father stopped short, noticing something across the room. I followed his gaze to find the boy hovering near the doorway. He shied away from anyone who passed by, his whole form tense. My brother's ploy had worked, it seemed.

"Oh, thank god," Dante hissed.

I would have breathed an equal sigh of relief at the intrusion, but Father called out to the boy, "Ah, there you are, Nero! Have you tried masturbating?"

Too many things happened at once. Dante reached across me and slapped his hand across Father's mouth, a plate shattered somewhere in the room, I bent my fork in my grip, everyone went deathly quiet, and Father had the gall to still look confused by all of it.

Perhaps time slowed for me, but it seemed the boy stood there frozen like the rest of us for far too long. The only change was the color that filled his face until he looked like one of those fruits Dante liked so much. The spell broke as he darted from the room. Someone coughed, and dinner resumed with a renewed swell of chatter.

Dante dropped his hand from Father's mouth with a sigh. "It was hard enough to get him down here."

"Father, you cannot yell something like that in public."

He resumed eating. "Is it really in public if it's my house?"

"Just don't say anything like that at all," Dante said. "You're officially barred from mentioning anything regarding sex."

"Masturbation isn't sex."

Slamming my hands on the table, I stood. "We can't have the boy not eating," I said, biting out each word. "I'll take him dinner."

Anything to get away from this.

"I'll go with you," Dante said, but as he tried to stand, I grabbed his shoulder and pushed him back down.

"You haven't eaten yet, and you've proven yourself to put the boy in a foul mood. I do not believe you would help given the current situation." And if he came, Father would want to tag along as well.

Despite his pouting, Dante stayed put. As I left, I could hear him trying to explain some form of tact to Father, as though that would go anywhere. Retrieving a fresh plate, I headed upstairs, past his room to the second flight of stairs. I was thankful to find that he had not attempted to break my window. Instead, he sat in one of the library chairs and fiddled with the chess set in front of him. He acknowledged me with a glance before sinking down further into the chair.

When I held out the plate to him, he eyed it as though it might bite him back. "Take it," I said. "But don't make a mess. I don't want mice up here."

He accepted it with a "thanks" I only saw in the movement of his lips. "How'd you know I was here?" he said audibly.

"You wouldn't have returned to your room in case Dante were to follow, and this is the only other secluded location you know of in the castle. It was obvious."

His eyes filled with irritation as he took a bite of his bread. I didn't see why he would ask if he would be upset with an answer. After swallowing, he let his glare fall among the chess pawns and spoke again. "Why did you bring me this anyway? Do you want something?"

"It does not reflect well on Capulet if we return a prisoner half-starved."

"So you admit I'm a prisoner?"

"What else would you be?"

He did not respond, though I understood his intent. Father and Dante did not treat the boy as a prisoner. Truthfully, neither had I.

His eyes remained locked on the board in front of him as he continued eating. "Do you play?" I asked, hardly aware I was speaking until the words had left me.

He nodded.

I should have left, but I told myself it had been some time since I played against someone new. Besides, if I had him distracted, he might be more willing to talk. Taking the seat across from him, I moved a pawn forward. "My apologies for how my father acted before," I said. "He has so little tact. That is where Dante gets it from."

He looked from me to the board a few times as though trying to unravel my plan. When he did make his play, it was one quick snap of movement. "S'whatever," he said.

He clearly wanted nothing to do with the subject, so I changed it for him. "I suppose it's fitting that you play black."

His gaze followed my hand as I made my move. "Why?" he asked.

"Because of your name." I knew enough of the old tongue to recognize "nero" as the word for "black."

"Oh. It doesn't really make sense as a name." His expression sank, but his move came just as quick as before. "Hey, do you hate your family?"

The change in topic was so sudden that I almost dropped my pawn. "You think I do?" I asked. He may have wanted to divert the topic away from himself, but I couldn't ignore such an accusation.

"You just don't seem to like them," he said, moving out his knight as quickly as the rest. I doubted he planned any of his moves.

"I suppose it is not an unreasonable observation, if a wrong one. I may become annoyed with them at times, but I do not hate them." Not that either of them needed to know that, or they would try to be all affectionate with me.

"Is that normal? Like, do all brothers act like you and Dante?" He did not look up. His expression did not change, though my view of him did. Of course, he did not have a family. He'd never had one. That was the first thing I'd learned about him all those years ago.

"I am not sure any family acts like mine, though brothers are known to trouble each other," I said.

"I've been told there was another prince before me." His bishop took out one of my pawns. "So I guess I had a brother once. I think he would have been about your age now, but since he was killed with my parents, no one ever wants to talk about him, so I don't know much other than that."

That did not surprise me. I'd always believed the church to be responsible for the deaths of the royal family there. It was no wonder, then, that they would not want to talk about the deceased.

As I snatched away one of his pawns with my rook, the door flew open fast enough to rattle the board. "Ha! I found you!" the usual suspect squawked.

"Dante, I told you to stay," I said.

"No worries. I finished eating."

That was not what I'd meant, but I was certain he knew that. He strode into the room despite the boy trying to sink into the armrest to avoid him. "Sorry about Dad," Dante said. "Sometimes he's still not great at being human, but don't worry. I explained things to him."

"Did any of it stick?" I asked.

Dante's smile did not falter. "Oh, I doubt it. So what are you two up to? Bonding over games?"

"We were discussing my hatred of you," I said.

"Also a good bonding opportunity." Dragging over the closest chair, he sat himself between us to watch, as though chess had ever interested him before. He complained of boredom when I made him play.

Despite his clear discomfort, the boy took his turn. The more he played, the more it became apparent how defensive his tactics were. I'd expected recklessness from his split-second choices, but that expectation had lulled me into following after his pieces. He didn't want to give up any he didn't have to, and through that, he had led many of mine into unavoidable capture.

It would have been an impressive tactic, but sacrifices needed to be made to win. With him unwilling to give up any piece, it was easier to pick off his stronger ones. Pawns were called pawns for a reason. Keeping them just for the sake of it was pointless.

"So the church raised you?" I prompted, hoping to learn more from him despite Dante's intrusion.

"Not really. I've never actually been to one of the church services or anything. I had a private tutor for that, but damn, it was boring. When I was really little, there were a couple maids who kind of looked after me, but mostly it's just been me and my retainer. He makes sure I wake up and eat and trains me with swords and all that. He's such a nag, but he was always the one who talked to the church council and stuff for me."

"Why don't you talk to them yourself?" I asked.

For the first time, he hesitated in grabbing one of his pieces. His armored hand swiped at his nose. "I just, uh, didn't always get along with some of them." Even Dante's brows rose at the waver in the boy's voice.

Before I could press him, Dante piped up in the chipper tone he always used when he was trying to cover something up. "So what do you do there on a daily basis? Seems kind of boring."

"Yeah, I don't get to do much unless there's a festival. Wake up, practice, study, whatever."

"And during the festivals what do you do?" I asked.

His demeanor brightened. "That's when I get to go outside, kill demons and stuff. There's dancing and food. It's great!"

Bread and circuses were all you needed to pacify people, after all.

"And you have to wear a mask for your protection?" I asked. It seemed more likely an instrument of the church's protection, but I could not work out why obscuring his identity was so important.

He nodded. "I wear a mask in parts of the castle too. Only a few people are supposed to see my face." Crossing his arms, he huffed. "That sort of got thrown out the window here."

"What about when I found you?" Dante asked. "You were outside, and you didn't have a mask."

"First of all, I was wearing a helmet, asshole. My mask was in my saddlebags, and that was the first time I'd been out without a festival going on." His shoulders pressed up near his ears. "They said I had something important to take care of, so I could try going out."

There was that ubiquitous "They" again. I had a feeling he knew little about those in power over him. Given the way things turned out during the demon attack, I wondered if the church had wanted the boy dead. Perhaps he'd become a liability somehow. They sent him with a useless squadron to fight demons that outmatched him.

"Then you got your ass kicked by some Blades," Dante said, grinning.

"Blades?" The boy was caught somewhere between offense and confusion. "The Assaults were what got me. Swords didn't have anything to do with it."

"I don't know if I'd consider getting hit by a tail assault. You just got the wind knocked out of you."

They stared at each other in blank confusion. I could have mentioned the regional differences, but well, I just didn't care enough. "What about your arm?" I asked instead as I captured his rook. "Is anyone allowed to see that?"

All the distrust he'd felt when I first walked in returned in full. He squared his shoulders, his eyes as sharp as Yamato. "No," he said.

"Considering the damage it did to my castle, I find your hiding it to be unreasonable."

"Vergil," Dante said in a warning much like he'd given our father at dinner. The reason for his concern was obvious, given the demonic energy radiating from the boy. Dante and I had been easy to provoke in our teen years. Well, Dante was still easy to provoke, but this boy was something else. He had far too much power for someone with no sense to control it.

Had I the mind to, I could have smothered that power of his with my own. I doubted I even needed a full devil trigger to send the boy cowering. His fire may have burned bright, but it would be simple to douse.

But I would gain nothing from that.

"A deal then," I said. "We finish our game. If I win, you show us your arm." It may have been a simple matter of curiosity, but I knew I could win.

"And if I win?" he snapped.

"What would you want?"

He considered it for no more than a second. "If I win, you let me go." His eyes narrowed in a challenge I would gladly accept.

Dante and I answered at the same time. "No," he said, more to me than the boy.

"Very well," I said over him. "Then take your turn."

Dante tossed me a look that suggested he knew I would win also, but he still did not approve. I was usually the one looking at him that way.

The boy's moves returned to his instant decisions. "You know you can take your time," I offered.

"I'm used to playing with an hourglass. Could beat you easy if we were using one."

"So you play often?" Dante asked.

"Sure, every day. There's nothing else to do for fun."

That explained why I found myself at less of an advantage than I'd anticipated. When he captured my queen, Dante gave a low whistle. I was able to take his second knight in return, but that left me with only my king and one bishop. He had only his king.

I hadn't been played to a draw in years, yet we were at a winless state.

"Start over," Nero said. "We'll play again."

I would have taken him up on that, but Dante caught my eye with a pleading stare. Considering the way Nero's anger had filled the room like fog at the draw, I understood the concern. Now that I knew his strategy, I could beat him easily, but that would only infuriate him more.

"Not tonight," I said. When he tried to protest, I cut him off with a command. "Take your plate downstairs to the kitchen. We'll have a rematch at a later time."

Despite his clenched jaw and shaking fists, he stood and stormed out. It would be a miracle if that plate made it to the kitchens in one piece.

"You haven't been honest with him, have you?" I asked Dante.

"What do you mean? About him being part demon?" Dante rubbed his hand across his forehead, trying to ease his furrowed brow. "I tried, but he doesn't believe me."

"Then you've told him everything?"

"Not...everything."

Idiot.

Standing, I collected the chess set and put the pieces back in their places to distract myself from wanting to knock some sense into my brother. "He'll be a liability if he's not put under control soon," I said. "If that happens, I will not hesitate to kill him. Royalty or no, I will not let him harm anyone here. That includes you."

Dante snorted, though he wouldn't look at me as he spoke. "Like he could hurt me."

"Do not lie to me!" I snapped. It wasn't a matter of if Nero could. That was never the issue. "You would let him."

If that were required to protect Nero, Dante would willingly allow himself to be hurt. He was always like that, the fool. He'd almost gotten himself killed when demons attacked us as children because he was too busy looking after me.

"Aw, Verge," he crowed as I headed for the door. "Are you worried about me? That's sweet."

I considered running him through with Yamato to prove otherwise, but I bottled the urge and headed to the stairwell. As I neared the bottom, I could just make out murmuring voices. One of them was unmistakably Nero's. The other was feminine.

I could not understand what they were saying, but from the bottom of the shadowed stairway, I was able to see them standing at the end of the hall. While the girl wore the clothes of our maids, I could not recognize her. She looked about Nero's age, demure, with red-toned hair. She handed Nero something too small to make out before dashing off out of sight with the plate in her hands.

Nero hid whatever the object was in his boot and backtracked toward, presumably, his room. That put him in my path, which saved me the time of having to go after him.

Though Fortuna rarely used them, the girl may have been some sort of spy. I could not believe the same to be true for Nero. Fortuna could not have anticipated Dante kidnapping him, but perhaps they were trying to use the opportunity to their advantage.

If nothing else, the boy was always their pawn.

He must have sensed my presence, hesitating before he reached me. To keep things simple, I stepped into view. "Friend of yours?" I asked.

"No." He was a terrible liar, eyes averted, arms crossed. "She just took my plate for me."

"And what did she give you in return?"

He flinched as though he'd been struck. "Nothing."

"Then I can confirm that story with her? I'm certain a quick interrogation would suffice."

I'd intended to bait him, yes, but I did not anticipate his eyes flashing red, nor did I expect the staggering flash of energy that had Yamato reacting again. It seemed I'd hit a nerve.

"You won't touch her!" he snarled in a voice far from his own, ragged as a damaged blade. Despite being unarmed, he did not hesitate to lunge for me. I was able to slip out of the way, drawing Yamato in the same step, as his punch smashed into the wall. Cracks appeared in the stone, his fist buried up to his wrist. Armor wouldn't have saved a normal arm from being shattered by such a punch, yet he tore his hand from the wall without blinking. The plating around his fingers cracked and fell away as he flexed his hand.

Like the odd attack I'd glimpsed that afternoon, his fingers glowed, pointed at their tips just like his clawed armor. Scaly red plating framed his hand as well. It was no wonder he kept it covered. The more armor fell away, the more apparent it became - that arm was demonic.

Each panting breath rattled through the boy as he readied himself for another strike. Dante or Father could wait and hope he would return to himself, but I would not gamble. I raised Yamato.

"I will try to make this quick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, do it. Kill him.


	4. Civil Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "No one's really reading this, but you know what would definately make it more appealing? A character that me and like two other people like. Yeah, that'll do the trick."

Kyrie had yet to return.

We so rarely sent anyone to Castle Capulet on horseback that I couldn’t say whether a week was too long for her to have been gone. Even after she found the castle, she would need to find a way inside. Then there was the matter of finding Nero and being able to see him alone. Altogether, it was no simple task, but Kyrie had the skill and patience for it.

I did not, which was partially why I had not gone myself. That left me to remain at the castle, worrying. I kept to any duties that I could in order to keep my mind occupied, but I had so little to do. My job was to look after the prince. With no prince around, I had no job. I’d been in my room for hours, trying to read the same page of a book, only for my mind to wander by the second line of text.

Our carrier birds had retrieved several messages from Capulet’s king, none of which mentioned catching a spy. I was certain the king would have noted his offense had he discovered her, and he surely would have added her to their ransom.

Well, I hoped he would do that instead of killing her on sight.

I had no reason to believe she’d failed, yet I spent my every waking moment trying to fidget away my agitation. Between her and Nero, I was going to gray early, granted I survived that long.

If I’d known more about Capulet’s royalty, maybe I could have breathed easier. Few from Fortuna had even seen Capulet’s royals, let alone gotten to know them, yet I was given an apt description of one prince the week before, when Sanctus assigned that absurd mission. Unbeknownst to me, we had information on his appearance, fighting style, and the route he often took through Capulet’s lowlands. A route he took alone, unguarded.

Despite all of our information, though, God was not on our side that day.

Perhaps if I’d warned Nero about the mission’s true nature, perhaps if I’d refused to accept it at all, perhaps if I’d been more firm in stopping Nero from going off on his own- But I knew better. Nothing would have changed in any case.

In reality, I doubted Nero or any of us could have killed Capulet’s prince as Sanctus hoped. That prince was beyond us, something strange and inhuman.

Like Nero.

Too much like Nero.

“You’re certain it was Capulet’s prince who captured him?” Sanctus pressed upon my return.

I kept my eyes down as much as possible, trying to avoid the fury in his stare. His calm demeanor was nothing but a mask. If I wanted to leave in one piece, I needed to tread carefully.

“Yes,” I said. “He was alone and as described. We were also straight in the line of his anticipated path.”

Venom dripped out from under Sanctus’ half-breathed words. “And you allowed him to escape?”

“I attempted to give chase, but we lost sight of them, and our tracker was too injured to trace his path. I had too many injured men. I had no choice-”

“Did Capulet’s prince injure any of them?”

“No sir.” The demons had done that. Some fool assigned me men untrained in fighting the monsters instead of those from the Order. “But he did harm Nero,” I added, shoving down the boiling anger that swarmed through me each time I remembered that damned prince standing over mine as though he had some right-!

“Very well,” Sanctus said. All the tension vanished from his voice, and I looked up to find him smiling. “I suppose it will have to do. I’m certain our dear patrons will be rather upset at this news of their prince’s capture. Capulet would be wise to act in its best interests because the people of Fortuna are more than willing to sacrifice theirs in order to retrieve their beloved prince. Wouldn’t you say, Credo?”

I hated that smile and the way it did not match his eyes. “I am certain the people of Fortuna will be upset,” I said, taking a step forward, “but if you would allow me to go, I could negotiate for Nero’s release. If necessary, I could be a proxy for him. If it comes out that we were really on Capulet land-”

As Sanctus held up a hand, I had to bite my tongue to stop myself. “They can attempt to prove whatever they wish, but rage makes people blind. You do not need to step in. Should Capulet attempt anything against the prince, they will not come out of it unscathed.” Sanctus seemed to smile wider at the idea that harm should befall Nero.

I should have been surprised, but I already understood his desires too well. Fortuna needed more farmland, and the only way to take it was to gain a foothold in Capulet. We needed a war, the sort not seen on either land in centuries.

But I could not allow Nero to be a pawn to that end, not even for the sake of our people.

“Sir,” I said despite all reason. “I took an oath to protect him. I cannot just sit here-”

“As a knight, your oath is to Fortuna. Take no further action. You are dismissed, Credo.”

He was wrong. The rings I wore were that of the king’s knight. I protected the crown alone. Sanctus himself had been the one to make me swear my life to Nero, so it was Sanctus’ own damn fault that I could not accept his orders.

My father had asked me long ago to swear loyalty to Fortuna’s people, but he was gone now. My mother as well. Both slaughtered like livestock. I’d forced myself to forget much from my childhood, but I could never block out the sight of their blood covering the floor, smooth and shining like stained glass.

I lost any tie to that old promise that night, just as I lost my name. So, no, the people were not my responsibility. Nero was my charge, as was the young woman I pulled aside in the chapel.

Kyrie followed along with my urging, ducking behind a pillar. Before I could even open my mouth, she spoke in a whisper. “It’s true, isn’t it? Someone took Nero?”

If the whole castle already knew, I had no doubt the news would reach past the city by morning. “Yes,” I said, keeping an eye out for anyone who might see us talking. “We have reason to believe he was taken to Castle Capulet.”

Her hands clasped under her chin, a common habit of the chapel girls. “Is he going to be alright?” she asked.

“I’m not certain. Sanctus won’t allow me to go, and I’m certain he’ll keep watch to ensure I can’t. I have hope Capulet will return Nero after negotiations, but I don’t know how safe he is, and he does not have his medicine.”

“Then I’ll go,” she said. Her determination burned like the candlelight in her eyes.

She was perhaps too eager to throw herself into danger. Placing my hands on her shoulders, I gave her the look I usually saved for when Nero misbehaved. “Blue Rose’s saddle still has the medicine, but you are only to give him that. Do not attempt to escape with him.”

“Even if he’s hurt?” she hissed.

“I can’t risk both of you being captured. We have to hope that Sanctus and the others will negotiate for his release. It’s more dangerous for both of you if Capulet recognizes you as a spy. It could damage negotiations, and you could be killed.”

She put on her usual doe-eyed pout. “Fine.”

“Be careful, little sister,” I said, my response to the routine. It was more difficult to plaster a smile on my face this time, but she flashed a grin before throwing her arms around me.

“I will,” she sang. “I’ll tell the other girls I’ll be working in the kitchens for a bit. They won’t even know I’m gone.”

I patted her head until she released her crushing grip. “Take Blue Rose,” I said. “It’s late enough that no one should see you at the stables.”

As much as I hated to rely on her for something so dangerous, she was the only one I could trust. She’d proven herself as a talented spy from a young age, able to keep her head down and eavesdrop for me.

That wasn’t how things should have been. She should never have needed to live in the shadows. She could have been a master of diplomacy.

But, no, I should have abandoned such thoughts long ago. Sitting alone in my room for so long had gotten the better of me. After a week of it, I’d had quite enough. Nero’s impatience had rubbed off on me.

Taking my sword, I descended into the castle depths. Below ground level, the fiery hues of the sunset vanished. The staircase was a gaping maw of near-blackness. Candles along the wall burned low, lighting only the patches of stones beside them. Mice or rats squeaked and skittered somewhere in the darkness.

I’d learned long ago to rely on my feet to carry me down the steps based on memory. It was best not to pay any mind to whatever might crunch under my boots. Best not to hesitate or touch the walls.

The door at the bottom of the steps held fresh candles on each side, burning bright enough to illuminate the claw marks and hand prints lining its edges. I wasn’t allowed inside - few were - and I had no desire to see whatever Hell was hidden away in there, so I stood in my old spot. Several years had passed since I last waited outside the dungeon door. Little had changed since then besides a few new gouges in the wooden frame. Seemed something big tried to escape.

As usual, Agnus was muttering to himself when the door swung open. Scowling, he tugged bloodstained gloves from his hands. I couldn’t recall ever seeing Agnus so annoyed. He was usually all smiles when appeared from his cave.

Honestly, I preferred the irritation, but no emotions were good on Agnus.

“Credo,” he said without looking at me. “What is it?”

He could be angry all he liked. I was not intimidated by him, especially not today. “I need to know what Nero’s medicine is for,” I said.

“Oh, enough. You always ask. It doesn’t matter.” That strange tick tinged his voice every few words, like they didn’t want to leave his mouth.

“I’ve given it to him for years because you said he needed it. Now I need to know what it does!”

“He’s not here. Why should you care?” He tried to take a step past me, but I blocked his path, my hand on my sword’s grip. I would not be shrugged off again.

“It is because he is not here that I care. What will happen if he doesn’t take that damned concoction of yours for this long?”

Agnus’ lip curled with a snarl. “It will mean years of work for nothing. They act like it can so easily be replicated. They forget how long it took to manage that one success.”

In one quick movement, I had my blade at his throat. “Explain,” I growled.

He stumbled for words, his eyes wide. When he did manage to speak, it was not what I wanted to hear. “What do you think you’re doing? You forget your place.”

As he tried to step back, I grabbed him by the front of his coat, slamming him into the wall. The edge of my sword pressed into his throat. “I don’t follow orders from you, Agnus,” I said. “None of my alliances currently reside in this castle. I have little to lose, so I suggest you choose your next words carefully.”

* * *

It was not that I didn’t trust my sons. True, Vergil was too quick to pass judgement, and Dante… Well, I could go on and on about Dante.

But they were reliable and quick-witted. They could handle themselves. I did not need to intercede for them every time something went awry.

They’d both been trying to convince me of that for years, though the staggering influx of demonic power hovering upstairs like a stormcloud was not helping their case. The young woman in front of me followed my gaze toward the ceiling, confusion written on her face. “Sir…?” she prompted.

Though I could not mask my frown, I looked back to her. “My apologies. The stables, you said?”

She nodded.

“Down this hall.” I gestured behind her. “Take the third right you come across. That will take you to a side door, which is closest to the stables. The main gate is closed at the moment, so you may need to sweet-talk the guards, but I’m certain you can handle that.”

She blinked. Her hand listed toward her side where she likely had some hidden dagger, as though I would be so heartless as to give a young lady trouble.

“I have something I need to attend to,” I continued, “but please do say good things about me to those in Fortuna.” Any other time, I would have asked her a few questions. It was rare I was able to talk to a Fortunan in person, and they almost never sent spies. I would have loved to sit down and have a talk with her, but my sons were in some trouble they likely started.

Without waiting for her response, I turned and hurried toward the second floor. Had it just been Vergil and Dante’s powers clashing, I wouldn’t have felt any concern. Days where those two didn’t fight were more surprising. The trouble was the other presence. It seemed to flicker and pulse like wavering candlelight. Though I felt certain it was Nero’s power, it felt so little like what I’d experienced from him before.

This was too violent, too sporadic.

And I could smell far too much blood in the air.

“Vergil, stop!” I heard Dante snarl as I took the stairs two at a time.

“How can you continue to defend him!?” Vergil barked in return.

It sounded to me that Vergil was about to start the war I’d just finished signing an agreement to prevent. To that end, I would have been on Dante’s side. Reaching the top step to find a glowing, bloodied arm sticking _through_ my son stopped all reason.

I’d always taken pride in maintaining a grip on my temper, but seeing Dante gored through the gut with a goddamned arm brought back that night I’d come home to a blood-soaked castle. I would not allow _anyone_ to hurt my sons like that again.

Perhaps the release of my demonic energy slapped Nero back to his senses because he tore his arm free just in time to keep himself from _losing it_. That wasn’t enough to stop me from grabbing him by the throat and slamming him into the wall. In fact, all that saved him from going through the wall was Dante’s irritated shout of, “Goddammit, Dad, not you too!”

Nero clawed at my grip on his neck even as my hand returned to a human shape. His eyes rolled back as he gargled for air. Just a few more seconds wouldn’t kill him.

“Dad,” Dante scolded once more. I turned to find him matching my glare. “Stop. Think about what you’re doing. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Anyone else wouldn’t have been, but it was true. The damage was already on the mend, muscles stitching back together under light new layers of skin. His shirt was not so lucky, though Dante had never been that attached to his shirts. He seemed to forget to wear them more often than not. Still, despite that unfortunate casualty, I released the worst of my anger with a sigh and let go of Nero.

I was forced to grab him again - this time by the collar - to prevent him from collapsing to the ground as he choked on fresh air.

“He tried to kill you,” Vergil said to his brother, eyes still narrowed at Nero. “It’s hardly fine.”

“To be fair, he was trying to kill you,” Dante said. “I just got in the way.”

“And you’re fine with that?”

Dante shrugged. “You provoked him.”

“Not to the extent that he should have reacted in that manner.”

“He can’t help it.”

“Can’t help it!?”

“Boys,” I cut in. “If you must argue, can’t you put your swords away first?”

They both looked to the weapons they still held, then to each other. As they glanced off in feigned-innocence, Dante leaned the flat of Rebellion against his shoulder. Vergil placed Yamato’s blade between the tips of his fingers.

“Then go to the courtyard to fight,” I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. “If I ever have to hear another word about how you two are mature enough to handle yourselves, I’ll eat my coat. I’ll look after Nero. You two… Just don’t kill each other.”

Having regained some form of consciousness, Nero had his head clutched in his hands. A soft, endless groan could be heard from him if I listened closely. That may have had something to do with the massive crack in the wall behind him where the back of his head made initial contact.

Regret was starting to catch up to me. Rather hypocritical to lose my head in response to him doing the same.

“You’re not going to kill him or anything are you?” Dante asked. I hated to see the worry in his eyes as he looked at Nero. My son had a terrible habit of growing attached to people who tried to kill him, but I couldn’t blame him when it came to the little prince. Nero was oddly endearing, perhaps because he reminded me of my sons.

Now that I was back in my right mind, I was glad Dante had stopped me from doing him serious harm. It would have caused considerable problems with Fortuna, and recalling my desire to tear him apart made me quite ill. Had I been in Dante’s place, I felt certain I would have stuck up for the little prince as well.

“I won’t harm him,” I said. “Do not worry yourself.”

Vergil tsked in displeasure but did not argue further. Dante looked as though he might, so I pulled a dazed Nero away before he could try.

“What the hell?” Nero muttered as he followed my lead. “What the hell?”

“My apologies,” I said before sweeping his feet out from under him. I didn’t trust them to hold him on the way downstairs, but being carried did bring him back to his senses.

“What are you doing? No! Do not carry me!” He shoved his hands against my face and tried twisting himself out of my grip. Though his attempts did little, I could have done without having my son’s blood smeared across my face. He noticed as well, perhaps for the first time. His fighting stopped, replaced by a trembling that infected his whole form. Pale as death, he stared at his blood-soaked arm. “Fuck,” he whispered at length. “Fuck. I didn’t mean to. Fuck fuck fuck.”

“Relax,” I said despite knowing he wouldn’t. “Dante is fine. While I would prefer you didn’t run either of my sons through, that is not enough to kill them. They’re fairly hardy.”

He turned to me but seemed to be seeing something else. “That was...you. That thing. That was you.”

“Well, yes, but I do prefer my human form. Frightens less children.” Nero did not seem afraid, though. Nor surprised. Rather, he looked like a man who had lost something,

“Why didn’t you kill me?” he asked, his brow pinched as he curled his demonic hand into and out of a fist. He watched it as thought he’d never seen it before.

“Many reasons,” I said. “It would have been wrong of me to do so, don’t you think?”

“But that’s what demons do. They kill people.”

“I believe we’ve talked about this before, Nero, and as I said before, that does not have to be the case.”

“I…” His shoulders sank. “You can stop carrying me.”

“I don’t mind.” I offered him a smile so I could see his usual annoyance return.

“Why are you both like this?” he asked.

“It is rather easy to carry you. You’re quite small.”

I received about the reaction I expected and deserved when he shoved his human hand to my face once again and renewed his attempts to free himself. His legs kicked like a child throwing a tantrum. Unfortunately for him, we’d arrived at my room, and I only released him after closing the door behind me. He had not planned for his sudden freedom, promptly falling to the floor in a heap.

“I thought you might like to wash up,” I said, taking my basin and placing it to the floor beside him. When he sat up and peered into the wobbling water, his eyes went wide at the sight of his own face covered in blood.

“It’s everywhere,” he hissed.

“Yes, and it stains terribly,” I said. Kneeling beside him, I grabbed hold of his glowing arm and snapped off the remaining cracked pieces of armor.

He gasped his offense, but I spoke over him. “It was beyond repair already. The damage has been done. There is no point in continuing to hide.” Keeping one hand locked around his wrist, I soaked a fresh rag in the water and set to scrubbing the blood from the curious arm. In my experience, half demons could usually keep to a full human form, but it seemed part of Nero’s demonic side had bled over.

“Has it always been like this?” I asked.

“I-I can do this myself.”

It was only then I realized how tense he was, how hard he was trying to pull his arm from my grip. He would not succeed. “I want to see the thing that harmed my son,” I admitted. “Allow me this. I won’t cause you any harm.”

He did not relax, but he stopped fighting me. The arm was quite a marvel, perhaps the source of much of his power. It glowed a dim blue like dusk, oddly beautiful when it wasn’t covered in gore.

“So,” I began again. “Has it always been like this?”

“No,” he answered with hesitation, his eyes on the floor. “But it has been for a long time.”

“When did it change?”

“I was, I don’t know, seven maybe? Started changing.”

“What started it? Did something happen?” That was about the age my boys first began manifesting their true powers, but there had been a trigger.

He didn’t respond at first, his gaze somewhere far from whatever the floor was showing him. “Like what?” he asked.

“A demon attack?” The only real trigger I’d seen. “Something startling perhaps?”

He looked to his hand as I finished scrubbing the dark claws. “There was…” His voice faded. “The routine changed, but… But it was fine. I started taking the medicine.”

My movements halted. “Medicine?” I echoed. “What for?”

He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Exhaustion seemed to settle over him. When I released his arm, he let it sink into the red-hued water.

“Nero, I just reached an agreement with Fortuna,” I said. “It was not the one I wanted, but I received word that they were preparing their army. They would agree to all of my terms except that I be allowed to remain in contact with you, and in the end, I conceded that. But as per our agreement, I have to send you back tomorrow.”

“I’m going home?” He seemed to regain some vigor at the thought, his eyes wide with surprise but… not relief.

“What does this medicine do, Nero?”

Tugging the rag from my hands, he soaked it again and started scrubbing his face free of congealing blood. He was so rough, I thought he might rub off his skin as well. “I don’t know,” he said in a tone I could not read. “But it helps. I guess I need it to not be crazy.”

A clawing began in the pit of my stomach. “Do you have any of this medicine with you?”

“No,” he said too quickly. “I haven’t been taking it since I got here.”

Then that concoction, whatever it was, was the piece I’d been missing. That was the reason Nero’s powers were so erratic. They’d found some drug to suppress his demonic side. It was no wonder, then, that he couldn’t handle all his anger or his demonic power - it was all swarming him at once. That dam had broken, and Nero was not prepared for the consequences.

I could not imagine that those overseeing him had expected it to hold forever. They’d always been playing a dangerous game, waiting for the trap to snap shut on them.

That did not need to be the case, though. We could teach him. He wasn’t beyond reason. He just needed some aid, some instruction.

But there was no time now.

I’d already signed him back over to those bastards who’d done this to him in the first place.

Dropping the rag back into the basin, he stood. “Anyway, thanks for, uh, I don’t know. Whatever. I guess we’re even now or something.” He started to leave, and I could not accept it. He couldn’t leave. I would not allow Fortuna to have him back when they would allow him to destroy himself.

I shot to my feet, grabbing him by the wrist once more to pull him back. That was the trouble with demons. We were so selfish.  We never cared for the desires of others.

Nero looked back in surprise and confusion, but he did not pull away.

I’d chosen long ago to overcome that selfish side of myself. I’d sworn protection to the strange, fantastic humans who chose me as their king for some impossible reason. I could not throw all of their lives into chaos for the sake of one, no matter how much I wanted to.

I could not keep him. I could not protect him. I had to give this one up for the lives of the many.

“Please do not tell Dante that you’re leaving tomorrow,” I said against all the other words battling in my throat.

His head listed to the side. “Okay?”

With a nod, I released him. He took a slow step back, puzzled, before turning and pulling open the door. “Hey, uh,” he said without looking back. “I’m still not a demon, alright?”

“You are as you choose to be,” I said.

I heard his near-silent sigh as he slipped out, shutting the door behind him, and I stood there wondering if it was cruel or kind of me to let him feel relieved as I let him go to his demise.

“My deepest apologies, little prince,” I murmured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk I'm still kind of waiting for someone to tell me which pairing I should go with. I can't make my own decisions.  
> Maybe I'll just stick with weird queer-platonic relationships? Who knows?


	5. Civil Hands Unclean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hi, howdy, I like writing Dante pissed.

The world was out to get my coat. Somehow, the latest tear was straight enough that a patch job wouldn't be too noticeable. The run was long, though, likely stretched from when Nero had ripped his hand free. Just like swords and arrows, hands hurt much worse coming out than going in.

There was probably an innuendo in that somewhere, but Vergil spoke before I could get a handle on it.

"We can have a new coat made for you," he said as I cut a length of red thread. "That thing is getting awfully tattered."

"Still perfectly good," I said around the needle in my teeth. Plopping down on my bed, I took the needle between my fingers and threaded it while Vergil glanced around my room with that usual "everything in here is diseased" look.

"You're too sentimental," he said. "You never wish to be rid of things."

I felt a lecture was imminent. Vergil never came into my room just to say hi. Actually, Vergil didn't enter my room at all, but after he decided against finishing our fight, he'd followed me back here. I had a feeling he'd stuck at my heels so he could make sure I didn't go after Nero. He and I weren't through with the issue of the kid.

If I let him start, though, he'd never shut up, so I spoke first. "It's funny how upset you were that I got stabbed when you run me through all the time," I said as I set to stitching.

"I was not upset." He was too straightforward to manage a lie like that. "And I do not run you through all the time!"

"You've still got the record." Glancing up from my work, I could see how much he wanted to bite back. He glared down his nose at me, but he didn't take the bait.

"Why are you so determined to look after this boy you hardly know?" he asked.

I jammed the needle into the pad of my thumb for an excuse to curse. Whatever answer I gave wouldn't matter. He'd find some excuse to turn my reasoning against me and tell me off. I wasn't in the mood, so I mirrored one of his smirks and shot one of his own unfair questions back at him.

"Aren't we supposed to be preventing a war? Why are you so determined to kill him?"

"You're avoiding the question."

"So are you."

Though he tried to hide it by running his hand through his hair, a headache or a desire to kill me throbbed behind his eyes. "Very well," he bit out. "You've never paid attention to our negotiations with Fortuna before, so you couldn't understand. I will attempt to explain this concisely."

My brows shot up. Vergil had never been concise in his life.

"It is true that killing the boy would cause war, but given the circumstances, war is inevitable. Fortuna has made several advances on our borders and attempted to claim plots of our land as their own. As things stand, if we intercept their advances, they play the victim. They always play the victim in an effort add fuel to the fire and upset their people. That is Fortuna's goal. The church wants Capulet to create the inciting factor so they may rally their people against us. If Nero's death is not the final straw, it will be something else. Father cannot continue to subdue them with old treaties, no matter how much he desires to prevent conflict."

I blinked away the glaze over my eyes once he seemed done. On the upside, I was making great progress in my stitches.

"Verge, could you tone down the pessimism for once? There's always a chance things will work out, even if it's a small chance. We can't jump to conclusions and murder kids just because things seem like shit."

"He's not a child."

I snorted. Like he had any room to talk, calling the kid "boy" all the time. "Regardless," I said, shaking my head. "Smarter to get the kid on our side, isn't it? Then he won't be so keen on fighting us. He doesn't seem like the type to want a war anyway."

"The boy will do us little good. He has no power because the church is keeping the crown from him, and he's too stupid to have realized as much."

"Good to have him as an ally regardless."

Arguing with Vergil over something like this was pointless. He was already invested in trying to kill the kid. That didn't mean I was going to give up. He and I could stand face-to-face for a week and never see eye-to-eye.

"He's far too unstable to be a reliable ally," Vergil said, the harsh edges smoothed from his voice. "He may only be useful if he kills some Fortunan leaders in one of his blinded fits."

"Oh come on, Verge." He was making it harder and harder to force a smile. "He's not a bloodthirsty demon. You and I just have a knack for pissing him off." Being cooped-up as a prisoner likely wasn't helping matters. I certainly got antsy when I wasn't allowed outside the castle walls. The more I mulled over the idea, the more obvious it seemed. Taking Nero out to kill some demons would do him some good for sure.

The thought would have been enough to cheer me up had I not heard part of what Vergil had been droning on about while I was tuning him out. "As things stand, we cannot win the war without mass casualties. Father would not allow either of us to fight against humans, and the same goes for any of our demon allies. We hardly have an 'army' considering our fighters are mostly bowmen and farmers trained to deal with demons. Even if we relied on guerrilla tactics against the trained, armored knights of Fortuna's army, and somehow pulled out a win, it could be devastating if Fortuna allowed Nero on the field, especially if he is no longer in control of himself."

With a sigh, I snapped off my tied thread and shrugged on my coat. "Geez, Verge, I love you, but you're such a drag. But I guess if there's no avoiding it, we should just get to keep the kid."

If anything could cheer me up, it was the way Vergil's expression soured when he was shown affection, like he's stubbed his toe. "You can't-" he huffed, still trying to get ahold of himself as I bit back a grin. "You cannot keep the boy. He's not a pet, Dante."

"Aw, please." I dragged out the word and put on my best pout. "I'll feed him and everything."

"Dante, I swear-"

The door of Nero's room snapping open and shut cut him off. Even he couldn't hide his curiosity at how the kid was faring.

"Guess I'd better check on my new pet," I said. "Make sure Dad didn't do anything too weird."

Vergil scoffed. "You think Father is the troublesome one?"

I'd never claimed any of us weren't trouble, but Dad was unpredictable at times. Vergil was easy to gauge. Call it that twin intuition or whatever, but I knew how he would react to anything. Dad, on the other hand, I could never pigeonhole.

Once again, Vergil trailed after me as I popped over to Nero's room. "Hey, kid!" was all the warning I gave him before booting open his door. To his credit, Nero had managed to get the desk chair in his hands and was halfway to raising it in offense. When he recognized us, though, he took a step back, holding the chair up as a shield. His glare was over my shoulder, where Vergil stood.

"Relax, boy," Vergil drawled. "I have no need to fight you as long as you can keep ahold of yourself."

Vergil's tone didn't help his case. He was bound to piss the kid off again, and the last thing I wanted was another fight. In small spaces, I couldn't do much but step between them. Just because I healed fast didn't mean being stabbed didn't hurt like hell.

Nero looked like he was about to bark his offense, but when he opened his mouth, his hand shot to cover it. Short, wheezing coughs left him instead, like he'd sucked in air the wrong way.

"Swallow your spit or something?" I asked as I strode up and whapped him on the back. Though he tried to sidle away, I leaned close to look at his neck. "You don't have any bruising from where Dad grabbed you, so I don't think he did any real damage. You're healing much faster than when we first met."

The coughing died down as soon as it started, and I found the chair placed between us as he stepped out of my reach. "Yeah, I guess," he said, looking to his human hand as his brows pinched. I'd seen that hand bandaged the day after I brought him, but he wouldn't tell me why. Whatever the problem, it had healed by the next day. The same went for the cut on his forehead.

"You don't typically heal faster than humans?" Vergil asked from where he stood leaning against the doorframe. He was just doing it to block the exit should Nero try to bolt, and while I didn't care for the intimidation tactic, Nero was looking like a rabbit trying to wriggle out of a snare.

"I heal faster than most people, but not like you." His eyes locked on my middle. "It's really just…?"

Flashing him a grin, I pulled up my shirt for him to see. "Still a little scarring right now, but that'll heal up."

Using his hand as a shield, he averted his gaze with a hissed, "Keep your goddamn clothes on!"

"It's an injustice to keep art from the world," I said.

Both of them groaning in agony had me snickering. Hassling them never got old. "Anyway, kid," I said. "If you want to kill me, you should try aiming higher next time." I cut my thumb across my throat with a click of my tongue.

Judging by the regret in Nero's eyes, he didn't care for the tip. "I wasn't...trying to kill you, okay?"

"Your actions suggest otherwise," Vergil said. "Do not pretend you're not at fault."

"Yeah," Nero sighed. "Sorry."

Even Vergil's eyes went wide at that, but Nero didn't leave time for his apology to sink in.

"Now would you two leave so I can go to bed?" he said. His demonic arm was bound at his side so tightly that it trembled. With his hand curled into a fist, those claws must have been biting into his palm, but Vergil's words seemed to have cut deeper.

Nero was growing more and more scared of his own power. I could see as much in the way he held himself, the way he kept his distance. He wasn't afraid of us. He was afraid for us.

He shouldn't have been. We weren't the ones to look out for. We could handle ourselves, but if he lost it around a human, they wouldn't survive more than a few seconds against him.

Fear wouldn't do him any good. He'd try locking his demonic ticks away, and the pressure would overwhelm him sooner or later. He needed to learn some control, and I could teach him that. Probably.

"I was thinking we should go demon hunting," I said. "I haven't been out of the castle since I nabbed you."

Nero scowled at the reminder.

"It's stuffy in here and I could use some practice." Not giving him the chance to turn me down, I slipped around the chair, latched my hand to his shoulder and pushed him toward the door.

Vergil didn't move. "You're going to go out at a time like this? You know you'll have to give the boy a suitable weapon if you're going against demons." What he wanted to say was that giving the kid a better means to kill me and escape was stupid.

Stupid ideas had never put me off. "You want to come with?" I chirped.

"No."

"I don't-" Nero began.

"Don't worry, kid," I interrupted. "I'll make sure none of the big, scary demons get you again."

He barreled headfirst into my trap with a snarl. "I can handle myself against demons!"

"Great, then we'll go."

Realizing his mistake, Nero searched for an excuse or insult before giving up with a growl.

Though he shook his head, Vergil stepped out of the way. "Don't do anything too foolish," he said.

I put my hand to my chest with a gasp. "Who, me?"

One of those rare, genuine smiles tugged at his lips for an instant. I'd remind him of it next time he told me I wasn't funny.

For now, I needed to get going. If I wasn't quick, Dad would sense that I was doing something he wouldn't like. I only stopped by my room long enough to snatch Alastor from the wall. "Do I get that one?" Nero asked, a fire of excitement in his eyes.

"Nah, he's finicky, but I'll let you borrow Rebellion." Less of a chance of me getting electrocuted this way. The spidery burns from the lightning hurt for days and took ages to heal.

Nero didn't seem put off, his pace even with mine as I headed downstairs. A kid after my own heart, he just wanted a good fight. I was certain I could find something for him to wail on. Some areas outside the castle grounds swarmed with demons.

"So," I began, trying to distract his obvious attempt at memorizing our path. "Dad wasn't too weird, right?"

He shrugged, still turning to every detail on the walls. "He was fine."

"What did you talk about?"

His attention diverted for a breath as he thought up what must have been a lie. "He was just nosy about my arm, I guess."

I could tell I wouldn't get more from him on the subject without him getting defensive, so I kept my voice light and pivoted to the new topic. "So does that arm do anything fancy, or is it just for show?"

"Oh, uh." The clawed fingertips brushed the bridge of his nose. "I'm not supposed to-"

"Says who?" Well, those weird church guys probably. With how demonic the arm looked, any abilities that highlighted that were a bad sign, considering the church was trying to pass the kid off as holy or whatever bullshit they'd been spouting.

"I'm not very good at it," Nero said. He looked up from his hiding place behind his bangs toward the door at the end of the hall. "Is that where we're going?"

I nodded. "We need to go to the stables before we can head out. It would be a bit of a walk before we ran into any demons. Lesser ones get skittish near my father."

He put his demon arm up in front of him as though trying to push away something invisible. A pulse of blue light flared from it as he released a breath. Still five paces away, the door slammed open with a bang. Like some trick of a mirror, a phantom version of his arm faded from the scene.

As I gave him a small round of applause, he gripped his demon hand with his human one, flexing the glowing fingers. Though he tried to hide his wince, I could see his eyes twitch. "Not really used to it," he said. "First time I tried that I threw the door off its hinges."

"So you were holding back? You won't have to do that against demons. Damn, now I'm jealous. That thing looks fun."

He matched my smile with a scowl. "No, it's a pain. Gets all weird around demons, and it's itchy as hell. Do you know how hard it is to sleep with your arm glowing through the blankets?"

"I guess that's fair, but it does look cool."

He shook his head. "There's a reason I have to keep it hidden. It scares the hell out of people."

I wondered if that was the reason the church had given him to hide it or if he'd determined that for himself. "The people of this castle have seen stranger," I offered as we stepped outside. If he remembered seeing Dad's demon form, he would understand my meaning, though I wasn't sure I wanted him to remember that. If he did, he said nothing, looking up at the night sky instead.

Last time I'd taken him outside had been during the day, and now he was so entranced by the stars, I found myself unable to pull him to the stables. "Don't get out much, do you kid?" I asked.

"I've only been out at night a few times," he said. "It's pretty. There are pictures in the stars, right?"

His words felt like a punch to the gut. Seemed like we weren't the only ones to hold him prisoner. "Astrology's not my forte," I said. "I know people like to connect the stars and say they look like things. I don't get it, but Dad's into that stuff. You can ask him later."

He answered with a disappointed hum and dropped his gaze. I guessed he didn't care for the idea of dealing with Dad more. I couldn't blame him exactly.

In the stables, Ebony showed his disapproval at being woken up by turning to nip at me as I cinched his saddle and reins.

Behind me, I heard Nero yelp and found him playing tug with Luce over the hem of his coat. "Let go!" Nero demanded, but the horse's bite stayed firm.

"Just pet her," I said. "She wants attention."

Nero stared down the horse as he raised his hand to its nose. "Bite me, and I'll knock those teeth out."

"Luce is harmless," I said, returning to Ebony. "She's Dad's. Vergil's horse is across the way." I tilted my head toward him. "Over there. That's Ivory."

Besides the snorts of horses, the stables went silent until Nero broke it with, "You really all just named them after their colors? What are you, five?"

Turning to him in confusion, I found Luce nudging the side of his head, making it hard to take his offense seriously.

"What kind of color is 'Luce?'" I asked.

"Oh, woof," he sighed, his hand covering his face. "It means Light in the old tongue." He'd clearly been spending too much time around Vergil.

"Light isn't really a color," I said as I pulled myself onto Ebony's back.

Nero belatedly noticed something amiss, glancing around the stables. "Hey, which one do I get?"

Grabbing him by the collar, I hauled him up to sit in front of me. He flailed more than helped. "You think you get your own horse after you hurt their feelings like that? Besides, most of these horses bolt if they so much as smell a demon. Ivory and Luce don't, but Vergil would kill me if I let someone touch his horse."

"What about Luce?" he asked through a growl, his fingers digging into the front of the saddle as he begrudgingly settled himself. If I didn't know better, I would have thought he didn't like being around me.

"Luce is just like my old man - gets senile and wanders off sometimes."

"Are you just worried I'll try to run?"

"Given your track record, can you blame me?"

Instead of answering, he grumbled as I grabbed the reins around him. "Just let me have the reins."

"Then I'd have to hold onto you." Amusing as the idea was, I knew if I tried to grab him by the waist, he'd rip my head off without hesitation.

He made a gagging noise to confirm my suspicion. "Then I'd rather sit behind you. I don't like not being able to see you."

Maybe I wasn't as worried about being decapitated as I thought because I couldn't pass up the opportunity. "I prefer this position myself, but I'm not too picky. I'm always up for switching."

"Okay then, can we switch?"

Nothing had changed in his voice, no dry annoyance or rage or- well, interest, but I wouldn't have known how to respond to that.

The whole thing flew over his head.

"Actually, then you'd have to hold onto me," I said. "So we'll just do it this way."

"Ugh, whatever."

Before I fell too deep into the rabbit hole of worrying that I might need to explain sex to a kid raised by the church, I arrived at the gate to find it wide open. We never left the portcullis raised at night.

"What idiots-?"

"Your Highness!" Agni greeted from the crow's nest overlooking the wall.

"Your Highness!" his brother echoed.

"Oh," I sighed.

Nero squinted up at them and flexed his arm. "You keep demons as guards?" he asked.

"Yeah, Agni and Rudra - a couple of Dad's pets. I like them better as swords, but what can you do?"

"Swords? What?"

Their current bodies were nothing impressive. Dad had them maintain small human forms, so they couldn't cause too much trouble. Their eyes gave them away, though, glowing blue and red at night.

"Why's the gate open?" I called. "You two know better."

"There was a girl," Rudra said. "She needed to go out and get something and said she would be right back."

Nero's shoulders went taut as he sank his claws into the saddle again. I'd heard Vergil saying something about a girl to him before they fought.

"I think she was lying," I said.

"Why would she lie to leave?" Agni asked. "His Majesty said people would lie to get in. We don't let people in, Your Highness."

"Yeah, great, keep that up. Listen, I'll explain later." Actually, I'd get Dad to do it because talking to those two was exhausting. "Just close the gate behind me. You can reopen it when I get back."

"What if the girl comes back?" Rudra asked.

"She won't." I kicked Ebony into a run before they could pester me with further questions.

"Why does your dad keep demons around if he's supposed to care about humans?" Nero called over the sound of the gallop.

"Many demons respect him and are willing to follow his beliefs. I don't really get it, but I guess Dad's kind of a charmer."

"And the humans who work at your castle are okay with all the demons running around?"

Truthfully, many of them had no idea, but I had a feeling Nero wouldn't appreciate that information. "People will put aside a lot for my father. I mean, do you hate him?"

"What?" he squawked.

"Can you honestly say you hate my father even though he's a demon?"

Nero went silent for so long that I thought he wouldn't answer, but when he did speak, his answer was firm. "No. I don't."

"He has that effect on people. Don't know how he does it, but he's a hard man to hate."

"I guess you got that from him."

I wasn't sure what I expected, but it wasn't that. Falling off Ebony would have felt like less of a blow to the head. "What?" I asked, pretending not to hear in hopes that he would repeat himself.

"Nothing!" he seemed to stumble over himself to say.

Likely trying to escape the conversation, Nero tilted forward into the run like Ebony. He may not have gotten out much, but he was comfortable with the quirks of horseback. The wind made a mess of his hair, but he was smiling until I leaned in so that I wouldn't have to yell over the hoofbeats. "I was right, wasn't I? About the girl?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." His tense expression said otherwise.

"I heard Vergil talking to you."

His arm flashed bright enough to bring color to the flowers rushing by. "Drop it," he said.

"Fine-fine. I just wanted to make sure she wasn't causing you trouble or trying to poison my family or something."

"She wouldn't do something like that."

"Then you know her well?"

His lips sealed at that, so I focused on our path instead. The best place to find a swarm was the old war battlegrounds. A couple hundred years meant little to a demons who liked to wallow in suffering. As we neared the closest one, Nero held up his arm. A steady pulse of light flared from it.

"We're getting close to some," he said.

"Oh, neat." I dropped my chin into his hair to see the arm better, ignoring his growl. "Pretty useful-"

"If you're going to make a torch joke, don't. I've heard them enough."

"I was going to say it makes a great beacon to draw the demons toward us, but the torch one's good too."

Ebony's pace slowed to a stop. He bobbed his head and snorted to let me know that was as far as he was going. Whatever was over the ridge ahead was going to be fun if Ebony was already this irked. Something gave a scream from the other side. Sounded like they'd noticed our arrival.

"Showtime, kid," I said as I hopped down.

"What was that?" he asked, following.

I grinned and pulled Rebellion from my back for him. "A good time."

He went all starry-eyed like a kid with a new toy as he took hold of Rebellion. I couldn't say I was thrilled to loan out the sword, and Dad would definitely have had a fit over it. But I was curious to see if Nero could wield it. If he couldn't handle Rebellion yet, the other Devil Arms were out of the question.

He took a couple practice swings, over correcting a bit and having to take steps to steady himself against the sword's weight.

"Feel alright?" I asked.

He smirked before spinning on his heel to face whatever was coming up over the ridge. "It'll do."

Another shriek sounded, followed by a chorus of them. In a blink, a half dozen towering Sloths appeared. The air tinged heavy with the scent of sulfur and burnt flesh.

"What the hell are those?" Nero asked. "They look kind of human."

"They're not." But I was relieved to see how anxious the idea made him. "They're Sloths, a bit of a pain to deal with if you're not used to them, so let me show you."

As much as I wanted to show off, I also wanted him to see how they fought. Sloths were cheap, tricky bastards. That idea went out the window when I found him chasing at my heels. "I can handle them!" he said.

That line sounded familiar. "Like you handled the Blades?"

He wasn't listening, rushing in to swing at the nearest Sloth. It vanished from his path. With a yell of confusion, he stumbled in correcting his balance. Before I could warn him, he slammed his heel down and threw his weight into a pivot just as the Sloth appeared behind him. Rebellion clashed with the Sloth's scythe before it could cleave into the kid.

"Nice one!" I yelled as I flipped Alastor to an underhanded grip and jammed it into the Sloth that had appeared at my back. With another one of those obnoxious screams, it burst into sand. "But next time try not to fall over."

"I didn't fall!" Throwing the Sloth's guard open, he shot his literal devil arm toward it. Once again, that ghostly version of it appeared to smash the demon into the earth. The ground seemed to open up and swallow the thing.

Once Nero learned their pattern, which he noted with a smirk and a, "Is that your only party trick? Come on," the battle became even more one-sided than it had been before.

I let him finish off the last one because I didn't want him to lose the childish grin that had spread across his face during the fight.

"And you wanted to stay at the castle and sleep," I taunted as I ruffled some clinging sand from my hair.

His laugh was strained through harsh breaths as he leaned against Rebellion's hilt, the blade jammed into the ground. "Do you need to hear that you were right a certain number of times a day to function?"

"Pretty much." As I neared him, I noticed his hair sticking to his brow from sweat. "Already wear yourself out, kid? I was hoping to go find more of a challenge."

"I'm just out of practice s'all." Maybe it was the glow of his arm, but he had a pallor to him that I didn't trust. Then that odd cough hit him again, morphing into a forceful rattle that shook his whole body. When his hand moved from his mouth, a smear of blood remained around his lips. As I stood frozen, trying to remember if I'd seen him take a hit, he frowned at the blood coating his hand. "Dammit," he grumbled. "Not now."

"Not now!?" I parroted, still feeling like the ground had dropped out from under me.

No concern touched his eyes when he looked up to me, only annoyance and a twinge of pain. "It's fine. It happens all the time."

I couldn't seem to grasp any thought but the word no, looping in my head. "What the fuck, kid? This isn't normal. This shouldn't happen to you regularly." I'd heard of diseases that did things like that to people, but Nero was too healthy to have anything like that. He'd just taken out several demons with ease, and hell, he was part demon. I'd already seen proof of his healing capabilities.

He shrugged. "Honestly, it happens every day. A little worse than usual now, but I probably just overdid it."

That wasn't enough. He was hiding something. I could deal with him not wanting to tell me about his time with Dad or who the girl was, but I could not accept this. Storming up to him, I grabbed him by the shoulders so he couldn't keep his eyes from me. "Kid, I've been stuck to you all week, and I hadn't heard a cough out of you until tonight. What's going on?"

"I don't know." He couldn't hold my gaze. "Probably just a side effect."

"Of what?" I growled.

I thought he shut his eyes to keep from revealing anything to me, but he broke his silence with a yell. "Goddamn, Dante, let go of me!"

My hands flew from him as I realized I'd all but crushed his bones in my grip. He should have fought back, should have punched another hole through me for hurting him. As things were, he took shallow breaths between the weak coughs still clawing up his throat.

"It's fine," he said again. "It just happens. I'll get over it. This is normal."

"It shouldn't be."

Part of me, a frighteningly large part, wanted to track down that girl and demand to know what she'd done to him. I couldn't think of another source of the sudden change, and not knowing what was wrong made rage boil under my skin. But now wasn't the time.

"We'll head back," I said. "You need to get some rest."

"I can handle it!" He tried to control the shaking in his limbs, tried to harden his eyes to mask the pain. "I'm used to it. We can keep fighting."

I had to fight down a fresh wave of red-hot anger at his words. He should not have been used to something like that. Those Fortuna bastards had done something to him, caused him unnecessary pain every damned day, and for that, I could not allow them to have him back.

For now, I needed to keep Nero from killing himself. My anger could wait. Putting my thumb and middle finger between my lips, I whistled for Ebony.

"Can I at least ride in back this time?" Nero asked. He must have seen in my face that there would be no more fighting tonight.

"Sure, kid, just hang on tight."

He didn't want to hold onto me, but I grabbed his devil arm and held it around my middle with one hand, my other on the reins. Despite his weak protests, he didn't pull away. That was for the best, as he fell asleep against my back within minutes.

With every breath, I could feel his chest rattle.

With every breath, I forced myself to remember my promise not to kill humans.

Then again, whoever did this to him couldn't have been human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen, Kyrie did nothing wrong.


	6. New Mutiny

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is terrible.

I could never sleep through Dante storming up the stairs. His heavy footfalls rattled my desk and everything on it. For someone who complained each time Father pestered him about his nightly jaunts, Dante did little to keep them secret.

Any other night I would have rolled over and gone back to sleep. But when he’d left, a second set of lighter footsteps had followed. I did not hear them now.

Even more damning, a rolling fog of demonic pressure hit me as his steps grew louder. If I wanted any chance of getting sleep, I would have to involve myself in whatever trouble my brother had caused.

Slipping out of bed, I pulled on my boots to save my feet from the icy stone floor, grabbed Yamato, and headed out into the hall. I caught sight of Dante just as he reached the top of the stairs. He so rarely showed anger, but between the dark, heavy tinge of the demonic power pouring off him and his distant glare, it was clear that boy had done something to set my brother off again. Few had such a knack for that. I would have found it impressive if Dante weren’t a mountain of trouble when angered.

The boy was a mess of limbs hanging on Dante’s back, his face buried in Dante’s shoulder. For his part, my brother seemed to have a knack for knocking the boy out cold.

“What did you do?” I asked.

His gaze shot up from boring a hole in the floor as he froze in place some ten paces away. “Oh, Vergil!” He put on the fakest mask of a smile I’d ever seen. And, hell, I couldn’t remember the last time he'd casually called me Vergil. “Were you waiting up on me? I’m touched.”

I raised a brow, staring at him in silence until his mask cracked and fell away. “The kid started coughing up blood,” he said. “He didn’t take a hit or anything. He just started hacking away like…” He punctuated his inability to think of a comparison with a shrug, the boy shifting at his back.

It was always a bad sign when Dante didn’t have a mind to be clever.

The boy did appear ill, pale as the glow of his arm and wracked by unsteady gasps for air. Though concern tinged Dante’s expression, his anger eschewed it, much like when Mother caught us fighting with Father’s swords years ago. The boy must not have been quite at death’s door if Dante had room to be angered.

“I don’t know what to do,” Dante admitted, the last thing I ever expected to hear him say. It felt like being drenched in icy water, and I couldn’t hide my shock. “Do you think Lady would know what’s wrong with him? Dad maybe?”

If we woke Lady at this hour, we would not come out of it in one piece. And Father… I didn’t have the patience to even consider it.

“Slow down,” I said, setting a quick pace towards him. “Unless the boy is dying, his healing should take care of things.”

“But he said this happens every day.”

“What?”

Dante shifted between his feet with a growl. “He said it’s a side effect of something. Fuck, I don’t know.”

As I stopped in front of them and Dante’s words caught up, I recalled something so obvious that I had to keep myself from smacking a hand to my forehead. Not wearing a proper holster, I held Yamato under one arm to free my hands. The dust that clung to the boy flared away in a puff as I yanked the boot from his foot.

“Uh, Verge-”

When I flipped it, paper packets about the size of coins rained down from the inside, falling into my awaiting hand. “I saw the girl give him something that he stuffed in his boot,” I said. Though I didn’t care to handle something that had touched that boy’s foot, I flipped one of the packets between my fingers. Something shifted inside, like sand in an hourglass. “It appears to be a medicine packet.”

“Then he’s sick?” Dante asked.

“Perhaps.” If that were the case, I couldn’t see why he wouldn’t show the symptoms until after receiving the medicine. “These packets could contain anything, though.”

Letting the boy’s leg fall, Dante reached out and snatched one away, holding it up as though there was enough light to help him see through the sealed paper. Despite the dim hall, the gleam of an idea appeared in his eyes. “Do you think Trish would know what it is?”

Through some force of willpower, I kept myself from scowling at the thought. “I suppose if anyone could, it would be her.”

Dante returned the packet to my hand and hooked his arm back under the boy’s leg just as the boy was beginning to slip. “Can you take those to her while I put the kid to bed?"

Being the one to tuck the boy in and wish him a good night sounded the preferable task, not that my pride was so weak as to admit that, especially to Dante. With the anxiety-tinged relief on his face, I couldn’t bring myself to refuse his request. Dante did not ask for favors. He insisted on them.

The sooner the boy left and my brother returned to being obnoxious, the better.

“Very well,” I said. “I suppose I am curious.”

Dante nodded in thanks as he brushed past. I was content that was the extent of it. If he’d actually said “thank you,” I would have needed to wake myself from a dream.

Trish’s room was on the other side of the castle, up the tower opposite the one that held my library.

As far away as Father could get her.

Upon opening her door to find me, she greeted me with her usual purr. “Vergil, what a surprise. And don’t you look cute in your night clothes? You should wear your hair down more.” As she reached for my bangs, I leaned back from her grasp and combed my hair back into place with my fingers. Her snake’s smile didn’t falter when she let her hand fall. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked.

“I need to know what this is.” I held up one of the packets between my fingers. Interest faded from her gaze as she eyed it, lips drawing to a frown.

“Well, that’s paper, though I’m sure you mean what’s inside it.” Her arms crossed as she leaned against the doorframe. “I know you think I’m some sorceress, but I’ll need more information than that if I’m to have any chance of finding out its properties.”

I thought nothing of the sort. She was a demon through and through, and while many humans in the castle marked her as a witch, I could see her “magic” for what it was. No matter the source, though, she managed results. As insulting as I found her presence, I could not deny her skill, and I needed to cooperate if I wanted answers.

“Dante’s new pet started coughing up blood,” I said. “We believe this to be the cause. Fortuna sent a rat who gave him several doses.” Opening my palm, I showed her the rest.

Her smile returned along with the hungry look in her eyes. “Interesting. Fortuna’s trying to kill its holy prince? Nero, right?”

Though I couldn’t fathom why, I didn’t like that she knew his name. Then again, I didn’t much like anything about her. My skin crawled when she said my or Dante’s names as well. That voice was not hers to use, our names not hers to say.

I buried all of that deep as she snatched a packet from my hand and ducked back into her room. She left the door open, showing the vast wall of shelves covered in bottles of every size and shape. Each one reflected the candlelight scattered around the room. She never seemed to sleep.

“Come on in,” she said, and I followed despite my better judgment. Whatever hope I had that the conversation was finished fell away as she spoke once again. “You know, I haven’t seen hide or tail of Dante all week. I hear he’s rather enthralled with that prince. But you, I hear you hate this ‘boy.’” Her hair fell around her in waves as she took a seat at her desk, where bottles and tubes covered the surface like a twisted forest of glass. “So what’s all this ‘we’ about? What’s this sudden interest, Vergil?”

Jamming myself in the empty corner opposite her, I decided I would need to have a talk with whoever was telling her these things. “Call it curiosity if you must,” I said.

Her smile quirked in amusement, a slight tug at her lips that was far too familiar for my liking. I averted my gaze to her work, deft hands pouring a white powder from the packet. I’d reached my limit of seeing her face for the day.

“Did you really lose to him in chess?” she asked.

“I did not lose. We reached an impasse. A draw.”

“That doesn’t sound like a win to me, and if you didn’t win…”

Dante arrived just in time to stop me from chewing off my tongue in an effort to keep quiet. “Trish!” he greeted. His lazy grin was back in place, all signs of upset stifled. “How’s my favorite retainer? Find out anything?” Placing his hands on the back of her chair, he peered over her to examine her progress.

I would never understand his affections for her - that which had killed our mother given her form. Even Father struggled to look her in the eye, but that was nothing more than proof of his guilty conscience. Well, perhaps it was hypocritical of me to speak ill of him in that regard.

“Don’t expect a miracle, Dante,” she said. “At most, I may be able to narrow down some of its properties. I would need time to identify it completely. And I’ll make sure to pass the news along to Lady that she’s in second place.”

“Oh, well now you’re not my favorite anymore.”

She chuckled as she dropped some opaque liquid into a sample of the powder. Apparently not getting the results she wanted, she drummed her fingers against the desk. “Are there any other hints you could give me so I can narrow the field? Any symptoms besides the blood?”

Before it could fully form, I pushed aside the idea that she should try the concoction herself to see its effects.

Dante rocked back on his heels, humming in thought. “Besides a general sour disposition, he was all clammy and zonked out not long after he started spewing blood like a fountain. He was shaking some too.”

“And you believe he ingested this?” She gestured to the powder.

“As opposed to what? Snorting it? I didn’t see him use it.”

“I believe he ingested it a few hours ago,” I said for my idiot brother, “after he spoke with father but before he spoke with us.”

Dante held his chin between his thumb and forefinger, nodding in an effort to look like he was thinking hard about something for the first time in his life. “He didn’t show any symptoms except a little coughing until we fought some demons. Wore him out quick.”

“Oh,” Trish said. Whatever the revelation, she was not happy about it, her voice distant, flat. Slamming her fist into the shelf at her side, she brought all the bottles to a cacophony of clinking together. One rolled out of place and fell into her open palm. After adding two drops of the innocuous, water-like substance it contained, she demanded Dante’s hand. He offered it without question.

“Rude,” was all he had to say when she sliced open his palm with a penknife. Just as his blood dripped into the mixture, the wound sealed.

Trish’s chair creaked under her as she sat back, breathing a harsh sigh through her nose. “How was the prince when you left him? Stable?”

Dante’s brows knit, the threat of worry burning in his eyes again. “Seemed to be. Why? What kind of medicine is it?”

“If he’s lasted this long, he should be fine, but there’s no plane of Hell where this is medicine. It’s some of the purest poison I’ve ever seen. One dose would kill a human.”

I wished she would have phrased it differently - softened her words, been vaguer perhaps. Lied. Yes, lying would have been preferable.

As things were, Dante’s eyes burned redder than his coat. The boy’s demonic energy overflowing was like a slap, but Dante’s was a solid blow to the head. If we didn’t calm him down, he was liable to shatter the castle down to its foundation.

“If you break anything, I’ll give you something that won’t heal,” Trish said. “You’re no good to the prince angry, and if you calm down, I can give you something that will help with his side effects.”

As much as I loathed her, she was nothing if not a good retainer for my brother. My plan had been to run him through and pin him to the wall with Yamato until he wore himself out from blood loss. Her idea was much cleaner.

His rage dimmed from a rolling boil to a simmer, irises still tinged red around the edges. “I’m not angry,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Right, and I’m not hellspawn,” Trish muttered as she plucked bottles from her shelves. “Now someone explain to me why Fortuna tried to poison their prince.”

“It could be an attempt to frame us,” I said.

“No.” Dante spoke with a gentleness to his tone that betrayed his hardened expression. “The kid said those things happened to him every day. He kept saying that. He said he was used to it.”

“Then they’ve been trying to kill him for a while?” Trish suggested with uncertainty.

I shook my head as an ache began behind my temples. “No, surely they would have noticed by now that his body would fight off the poison. If they wanted him dead, they would have tried something else by now.”

Silence cut in like an ax, only eased once Trish’s concoction began boiling in a gentle rhythm. Fortuna rarely made logical steps, so I was starting to consider the possibility that trying to apply any reason to their decisions was a fool’s game. Perhaps that was why Dante was the first to speak.

“The kid’s healing was getting better,” he said. “He wasn’t taking that poison, so he was getting better. He told me those were ‘side effects’ because he thinks it’s medicine.”

“For what?” Trish asked. “Even partial devils hardly get sick.”

My eyes seemed to open as I grasped an understanding. “It doesn’t matter. He was raised in isolation, listening solely to the church. He’ll do as he’s told. If they say it’s medicine, he will take it. And if his body is constantly fighting that poison, if he’s constantly weakened-”

“So are his demonic powers,” Dante finished. “He’s probably never had to deal with his demon side at all until now.”

“Well, aren’t you two quite the detectives?” After pouring some unsettling black liquid in a vial, Trish corked the top and shook it to complete the odd ritual. “Guess this won’t do him much good if they’re going to put him right back on that poison regimen when he gets back.”

The growl of Dante’s devil side rattled his voice. “He’s not going back.”

Mischief tilted Trish’s words like a key change in the middle of a song. “Oh? A few hours ago, I overheard your father telling Baul that he and his brother would be escorting Nero back to Fortuna at sunrise.”

Oh, Hell.

My headache pounded behind my temples as Dante all-but goddamn triggered. We had about five seconds before my brother tried to kill Father, and Trish didn’t seem to care enough to intervene this round.

Five.

“Dante, Father is trying to delay the war. He doesn’t-”

“You said the war was inevitable, so what does it matter?”

Four.

“Don’t twist my words around on me. Didn’t you say there was always another chance?”

Three.

“Nero doesn’t need to go back for that.”

“What about him being our ally on that side?"

Two.

“He can’t be our ally if we let those bastards kill him.”

“Dante, listen-”

One.

“I’m done listening.” He took a step toward the door.

“What if you went with him?”

As I rubbed my hand against my aching head, wondering what could have possessed me to suggest such a stupid, _stupid_ idea, Dante stood stuck in time. Consideration replaced bloodlust, and I wished I’d stuck to the stabbing plan. When Dante became irrational, I swore it infected me. Seeing him enraged set off alarm bells in my head until I couldn’t think straight. That had to be it. That was the reason I’d said such nonsense.

And because it worked, I dug my grave deeper. “You should go with him as an escort,” I said. “You can see Fortuna and observe the people.” Father would never allow it. Dante was too likely to kick off the war with some slip of the tongue.

But then again, Dante had that stupid ideal of there always being a chance things would work out in the end.

After a half-second of trying to hold onto that idea, I remembered how foolish it was and gave up. Yes, I was done with this. Dante could do as he pleased, but I would not be dragged into his follies any further.

“I don’t think your father would approve,” Trish said. “Sending your prince into enemy territory? Where have I heard that story before? Not sure it ends well.”

Dante snorted like his irritable horse. “I’ll let Dad know when I give a damn what he approves of. Fortuna is welcome to try capturing me. Sounds like a good time, actually.”

Honestly, Fortuna capturing my brother sounded like a blessing.

“But you know Baul and Modeus wouldn’t let you tag along,” Trish said.

Of course they wouldn’t. They were my retainers for a reason, even if I made little use of them. Loyal only to myself and Father, they would be quick to alert him if Dante tried to join them.

Whatever idea was behind the wicked grin on Dante’s face, I didn’t want to hear it. No, I was leaving. I was finished here. If he wanted to get himself killed, so be it.

I turned for the door only to hear “Then I’ll just take him myself. I don’t need them.”

Damn my traitorous legs, I turned back. “No. You’re a terrible negotiator, and you’ll get lost on the way. If you really must do this, I will go with you.”

I could only hope Father blamed Trish for this and not me. After all, it was her fault. She may have wanted us both dead. If so, she was well on her way to completing that mission.

“Wow, Verge,” Dante said, grinning. “I didn’t realize you cared about the kid so much.”

“I’m not worried about him. I’m worried about you somehow destroying the kingdom I’m supposed to inherit.”

“Aw, you’re worried about me?” he crowed, hands pressed over his heart. I could not fathom what great sin I’d committed to end up with him as a brother.

“If we both come out of this alive, you’re never allowed to ask anything of me again,” I said. Though, at the rate things were going, I would be the one to kill him.

As he was unable to walk without waking the whole castle, I tasked him with giving the boy whatever suspicious antidote Trish had concocted, while I scavenged for travel equipment. The treaty, which I found in Father’s study, showed our destination to be an old fort on Fortuna’s east border. The trip would take about two days. I had hope we could return before Father did anything too rash. Having both heirs go into enemy territory was an ill-advised plan at best, but if the king attempted to follow, then we would truly show our stripes as a family of fools.

After I’d packed, dressed, and considered putting an end to this, I returned to the boy’s room to find Dante had done a whole handful of nothing in all that time.

“It’s not poison, kid! It’ll help. Come on, when have I lied to you? Okay, maybe a few times, but- Look, can you start by letting go of my hand?”

Nero, with pupils so wide he couldn’t have been lucid, seemed to have gotten the better of my brother. Dante had one arm around the boy’s neck and the vial clutched tight in his hand despite glowing claws threatening to pry it away. My brother’s other hand was locked between Nero’s teeth. I saw no blood, but Nero appeared to have a solid grip on the joint below Dante’s thumb.

“You certainly have a way with people,” I said.

Dante’s eyes gleamed with irritation despite his smile. “While I’m sure this hits whatever weird kinks you’ve got, Verge-”

“No.”

“-could you take the antidote so he doesn’t break it?”

As soon as I held up my hand, Dante flicked the vial into my grasp. Nero’s reaction came much too late to rip it from the air. Though he did release Dante’s wounded hand in the attempt, he also managed to duck out from Dante’s grasp. We were getting nowhere fast.

“Boy,” I said as he glared between us. “This is going to help with the side effects of that poison you took. If you won’t drink it, you’ll be weak far longer.”

“I don’t need anything,” he said, even as he gripped his bed’s headboard for support. His legs trembled beneath him. Each blink appeared to be a fight to keep the world in focus. “My medicine isn’t poison. You’re both crazy. What do you know?” His words drifted as though caught in a gale. “I need it.”

“For what?” I asked.

I struggled to make out his words, dragged through a slur. “Credo says so. You’re just trying to poison me.”

“If we’re going to go, we must go now,” I said. “He will heal on his own time."

Dante’s expression was caught between amusement and worry as the boy’s devil hand scrubbed at his face like a tired child rubs his eyes. “I guess if there’s no choice,” Dante said.

Nero gave what he must have thought was a triumphant grin. “You can’t fool me,” he said through a spell of dry coughs. “I took three doses.”

“You did what!?” Dante barked.

“I hadn’t had it in like-” Nero squinted at his hand. “-six days. Seven? Had to catch up.”

“It’s a wonder you’ve made it this far in life,” I said. With the dazed horror written across Dante’s face, it was clear we weren’t leaving until the boy received the antidote. I did not have the time, nor the patience, nor had I received decent sleep.

Pulling the cork, I hoped Trish had not, in-fact, cooked poison, before I knocked the contents into my mouth. I imagined drinking ink would taste similar: cold, dark, and bitter as a void. Nero’s response time remained so slow that I needn’t have warped in front of him, but I wanted that damned taste gone. As soon as I pinched his nose, his lips parted instinctively.

My other hand wrapped around his throat to ensure he swallowed because I did not touch my mouth to his just for him to spit out the antidote. For the first time, though, I found him cooperative. When I pulled back, his face had painted to a shade of pink.

“Alright, can we be off then?” I asked as I wiped the back of my hand across my mouth.

Dante wore an expression I’d never seen on him, his brows raised, his eyes dim. “Vergil, you can’t go around kissing people.”

Of all the people to lecture me. “It wasn’t a kiss,” I said.

“Look, I know you’ve never had one before, but that definitely fell into the category of a kiss.”

“No, I just ensured he would drink the drug. Now we really must be going.”

A rueful smile curled at Dante’s lips. “Right, yeah, let’s… God, when that kid’s coherent, he’s going to kill us both.”

Though Nero was welcome to try, I couldn’t find him to be much of a challenge when he was too busy gagging against the taste of the antidote.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TERRIBLE.
> 
> Oh, and I made a side tumblr dedicated to me yelling about my DMC writings into a void since none of my friends are into it. Feel free to follow/contact me at BlueThorneFics on there if you want to know about updates or you want to let me know I'm terrible. (I know.)


	7. Fearful Passage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know Nero knows what flipping the bird is in canon, and no, I will not stop making Fortuna even more of a fantasy Italy than it already is.

The pain was gone. No knives jamming between my ribs with each breath. No coughs tearing up my throat. In fact, I didn’t feel much of anything. The feeling of swimming through the air replaced dizziness. 

My mouth still tasted like ass, though.

“How are you holding up, kid?”

Turning, I found Dante standing beside me. I swore he’d been across the room a moment ago. 

“Fuzzy,” I said, trying to make sense of the buzz along the surface of my skin. “Like… a blanket.”

He had laughter in his eyes. “Well, that’s great. We’ve got to go now, alright?”

“Oh, I’m going back now?” That was right. I was going home. Dad had said something about that. Wait, Dad? Ew, that wasn’t right. “No, the purple guy.”

“What about him?” Dante asked through a scowl. Anger didn’t fit his face. He was supposed to be annoying and happy all the time.

Reaching up, I pinched his cheek and tugged it to form his lips closer to a smile. “He said I was going home. He said not to tell you. Stop frowning.” 

His expression didn’t change, but the air felt angry, like the fuzziness became a swarm of buzzing insects.

“Dante,” Vergil called. “Now’s not the time. Are we going or not?”

They should have told me sooner that we would be leaving so early. Or late. Whatever the time, I wasn’t ready, not in the worn, mismatched coat and pants they’d given me. “I need my uniform,” I said. “Purple guy said I would get it back.” 

Dante and Vergil exchanged glances, the latter shrugging. “I didn’t see it anywhere,” he said. “Father may have put it away for safekeeping. I’m certain you can have another made when you return home.”

Yes, because standing for hours while being poked with enough needles to fill a pincushion was just fantastic the first time. This asshole shouldn’t have had a say in it anyway. “I need it back, and I have to cover my arm!”

“We have no time for something so trivial. Those who receive you can accommodate your appearance.”

Because Credo wasn’t around to smack me in the back of the head, I flicked my fingers under my chin. Vergil looked as unfazed by the gesture as Dante had every time I’d done it to him. Not the reaction I wanted. Maybe they were stupid, or maybe Kyrie had lied to me about that being rude. 

Words never failed me, so I tried my hand at an insult. 

“Yeah? Well, your appearance is like a cornflower.” 

He blinked. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said out of habit. Only when Dante snorted did I realize it wasn’t the stinger I’d intended. “Wait, no, you’re not welcome! I’m insulting you!”

“I love him,” Dante said. “Can we keep him like this?”

“We can’t keep him at all. Let us go.”

As much as I wanted to challenge Vergil to a brawl, I couldn’t seem to walk in a straight line. This must have been what it felt like to be drunk. 

Dante said he didn’t trust my legs to get me far, and before I could tell him I’d rip out his still-beating heart if he tried to carry me again, he offered his arm. I refused to look at him as I hooked my arm with his. The stairs tried to slip out from under my feet every few steps, but Dante would pull me upright before I could begin to stumble. 

I couldn’t say if liked him better than Vergil, or if I hated his guts more. As I tossed the idea back and forth in my head like a chess match, I found myself staring up at him. 

“Can’t take your eyes off me, eh?” he said. 

My heel came down square onto his toes. “Suck my dick,” I hissed. 

His face scrunched as he bit his lower lip against a grin. “Please stop setting yourself up like this. I’m trying to behave since you’re not all there.”

If this was him behaving, I didn’t want to know what he considered misbehaving. 

We retraced the path to the stables, though I found the stars different this time. They swirled through the void, painting it with a milky blur. “The sky is melting,” I said. “Does it usually do that?”

“Only when Trish hooks you up with the good stuff, I guess,” Dante said. 

The sky vanished as he pulled me into the stuffy, hay-scented stables. “Oh no,” I heard him say, my gaze falling to find three horses saddled: Ebony, Ivory, and a smaller beige. A woman stood holding its reins. I recalled meeting her briefly - the angry one with a scar on her nose - but I couldn’t think of her name. Something with an L. Judging by her glare, it was probably Lucifer. 

“I’m going,” she said. “I’m your retainer, jackass. I know I can’t stop you from doing this, and for the record, I think this a terrible idea, but you can’t stop me from going with you.”

Dante shrugged, looking so smug I considered punching him for her. “Do whatever you want. Just don’t fall behind like you always do.”

“Yeah, not gonna happen. The kid’s riding with me so you don’t try anything.”

“Hey!” I cut in. “I’m getting my own horse this time.”

Lucifer lost none of her dry irritation as she looked to me. “You look like you can barely keep on your feet. You’d fall off a horse in an instant. Besides, if we’re dropping you off, we’d have to lead the extra horse back.”

Vergil took his turn to interrupt as he adjusted Ivory’s saddle. “I’d prefer you didn’t prep my horse if you aren’t going to do it properly, Lady.”

Oh right, Lady. That was it, not that it fit her as well.

Without sparing him a glance, she held up the back of her fist toward him, her middle finger pointing toward the roof. “Are we going to keep talking, or are we heading out?”

“What’s she doing?” I asked Dante.

His surprise gave way to a brilliant smile that could have only preceded bullshit. “You really don’t get out much. It’s just a show of affection, kid.”

Even with my thoughts a jumbled, swirling mess, I wasn’t that stupid. Lady stepped forward and grabbed me by the collar. “Fuck off, Dante,” she said.

As she dragged me away, I turned my hands up at him as she had at Vergil. Dante barked a laugh. “Lady, you’re being a bad influence.”

“Probably the only sensible thing he’s learned all week,” she shot back as she hauled me up onto the horse after her. I’d never shared a horse with a woman before. Women in Fortuna didn’t ride horses much to begin with, and they certainly did not ride straddled. As I sat with my arms glued to my sides, I reconsidered the benefits of riding with Dante. Not Vergil, though. He could go fuck himself. 

“Keep that demon hand off me,” Lady said.

I heaved a sigh, trying to tug my sleeve down to cover it. “It’s not a demon hand.” 

I should have been more insistent in getting something to cover it. A mere handful of people had seen my arm before tonight. Each responded with a mix of awe, fear, and disgust. Yet none of the Capulets who’d seen it responded with much of anything but curiosity or annoyance, not even Dante, who’d gotten the cursed thing through him.

I could never convince myself my arm was blessed like the church tried to say, not when Credo grew pale each time the scales climbed further over flesh, not when I had to hide it. But it wasn’t demonic either. The church wouldn’t have kept a demon around. They would have killed me long ago.

Lady’s voice broke me from my daze. “Whatever. Just hold on with your other hand. I don’t need you slipping off.”

“Hold on to what?” I didn’t think there was anywhere men were allowed to touch women. The sermons said looking at them was bad enough, and touching them was right out, but Lady made a sound from the back of her throat before pulling my arm around her middle. 

An instant was all I needed to determine that I hated the position. We were too close, so close my chest brushed her back, and I had to tilt my chin back to keep away from her hair. “Maybe I’ll just fall off and die,” I offered. She held tight to stop me from tugging my arm free. 

“You’ll die quicker if you don’t put your hand there and keep it there.”

“Best do as she says, kid,” Dante called, gesturing to the oversized crossbow hooked at her side.

Getting hit with an arrow sounded less painful than having to be close to Lady, but my other options were the human embodiment of a blizzard and Mr. “What is personal space?”

Walking sounded appealing until the horses started to move and my vision turned into a tilted landscape of smears. I couldn’t tell if I’d slowed down or the word around me had, but something couldn’t keep up.

Even as we stopped at the closed gate, I tilted my head back and forth to watch the the world turn to brushstrokes. I felt as though I were underwater, weighted yet weightless. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I found it comforting.

“You alright?” Lady asked while Dante and Vergil argued with the other blue and red twins above us.

A lopsided smile played on my lips. “I’m great!” I said. Other than a light chill from the night air, I’d never felt better. 

“Fantastic,” she muttered. “Guess it’s really hitting you now. I’m not looking forward to when you crash. Let me know if you start getting tired because I don’t want you passing out and dragging me off with you.”

One of the demon guards dropped to the ground, followed by the other. “Oh, they’re so small,” I said. “I thought they’d be bigger.” The two looked like teens and seemed to act like them too. They whined each time Dante and Vergil assured them that they weren’t coming along. 

“We never get to go out anywhere anymore,” one said. 

“Yeah, Your Highnesses, take us with you.” 

“We’ll help!”

“You can help by staying here,” Dante said. Vergil looked ready to kill them both. “You can go next time, okay? Now open the gate before I break it or both of you.”

“Next time?”

“You promise?”

Something possessed me to giggle so hard that there were tears in my eyes. “They’re like tiny Dantes,” I sobbed.

Lady snorted. “You know? You’re not wrong.”

After Dante swore up and down that, yes, his small doubles could tag along for the next outing, the demons raised the portcullis. I gave them a wave as we rushed outside the castle grounds. The blue-eyed one waved back, so enthusiastic I thought he might fall over. The red-eyed one raised his hand and twitched it back and forth while eyeing his twin, as though he were worried about messing up the gesture. 

We must have ridden for hours, until pink and orange light bled across the sky, and the castle vanished behind the rolling hills. Vergil led the whole time, keeping a pace that made the hoofbeats sound like rolling drums. Counting the sheep and cows we passed kept me awake along with the bitter, biting cold of the wind. I stopped caring that Lady was close. She was the only thing keeping the wind from cutting into my bones. 

Every now and then, she asked how I was holding up. I was certain it was more for her sake than mine, as she punctuated each of my slurred responses with, “Don’t fall asleep.”

With the wind, I wouldn’t have thought it possible. The air was too damn cold, and people didn’t fall asleep on horseback. Passing out against Dante’s back didn’t count. That was different. 

I didn’t feel myself nodding off until my face dropped against Lady’s thin shoulder. Through a distant grasp on consciousness, I heard her grumble a slew of curses, followed by a yell that had me jolting upright. “Let’s take a break! The horses could use it.”

Praise be unto the Savior, or whatever the phrase was, Vergil agreed with someone else for once. “There should be a lake just ahead. We can stop there,” he called over his shoulder. 

True to his word, a brilliant lake lay over the next hill. Reflecting the sky, it looked like a massive floor of stained glass. Once we reached it, Dante and Lady hopped off their horses to stretch like sunbathing cats. Vergil just straightened his coat. They made it look so easy, like the earth wasn’t constantly swaying under their feet. Keeping a grip on the saddle, I stared at the grass until I felt certain it wouldn’t be ripped out from under me like a rug. 

“Still having fun?” Lady asked.

“Lots.” 

The comfortable buzz from before was gone, replaced by a mind-numbing chill that seemed to come from my bones. After I remembered how to stand, I forced my stiff legs over to the lake’s edge. My tailbone ached with every step.

As I knelt beside the water, I heard Dante talking several paces away. “Hey, Verge, do you know where we’re going?” 

“Are you honestly asking that just now?” Vergil said. 

The water was so cold that my human hand locked up on contact, joints jammed in place. Splashing it on my face felt like a slap, but at least it ate away at the exhaustion. Lady led her horse to the water, slipping the reins from its head so it could drink. She watched Dante and Vergil with the same irritated disapproval I often saw from church officials. 

“They’d better not start fighting,” she said. “You hungry, Nero?”

My expression twisted as I tried to recall what hunger felt like. Beyond the cold and weariness, I couldn’t feel much. Before I could determine if food sounded appealing or nauseating, Lady shoved an apple into my chest. “Eat something, at least,” she said. “You’re shaking like a wet dog. Are you sure you’re feeling alright? Not going to pass out, are you?”

“Jus’ col’,” I said around a bite. My mouth had been tinged with bitterness for so long that I didn’t think I’d ever tasted anything as good as that bruised apple. 

Lady cocked a brow. “It’s barely autumn. I’ll see if I can convince tweedledee and tweedledick to get a fire going so we can have a proper breakfast. Don’t fall in the lake.”

As she stalked off with a, “Hey, idiots,” all three horses pressed in close to me, trying to nudge their way toward my food. My claws made quick work of snapping the apple to pieces, and after popping out the seeds, I let each horse munch on a piece while I ate the rest. The horses were so warm that I couldn’t mind having them all close.

“It’s getting cold out,” I heard Vergil say. Looking up, I found him staring at an unfurled map. Vindication coursed through me as I fought to hide a smile. If Vergil of all people were complaining, it had to be cold.

“Really?” Dante said. “I’m not feeling anything.” 

He could fuck right off.

Vergil didn’t look up from tracing our route. “Many don’t have your hot-blooded nature, Dante, and it’s getting to be autumn.”

“You cold, Verge? You sure that’s not just your personality?”

“I am not cold, but others may be more susceptible than we are.”

“Then what are you whining about?”

“Give Nero your coat, you thick-skulled idiot,” Lady snapped. “Make sure he doesn’t freeze to death while I get the fire going.”

“I’m fine!” I called. There was no way in Hell I was wearing that asshole’s coat. I already had one. Lady wasn’t wearing one. He could give it to her. 

I would have stepped away from Dante’s approach, but Ivory and the lake were at my back. “Take it easy, kid,” he said. “You’re probably still getting over the poison.”

“That you gave me,” I said.

“I recall you hacking up a lung before we gave you anything.” In one smooth motion, he pulled his coat off his back and draped it onto my shoulders. Damn thing was warm.

“I don’t need your stupid coat,” I grumbled, even as I slipped my arms into the sleeves. The cuffs swallowed my hands. Dante’s eyes shone at the sight. Trying to roll the sleeves up only made his smile wider. 

“Whatever you say, kid. You feeling better at least?”

“I guess. Just shouldn’t have taken that many doses.” 

He nodded. “Oh yeah, that was dumb. And just so we’re clear, your ‘medicine’ was poison. What we gave you was supposed to help with the side effects. Seems like it worked. Made you way more entertaining as a bonus.”

Looked like Lady had a fire going. “I’m going to burn this coat,” I said.

“Hey, no! That’s my best one!”

My medicine was  _ not  _ poison. I’d heard enough of that. Giving someone poison for that many years made no sense. Sure, the side effects were rough, but I’d grown used to them over time. I had to put up with them because I needed the medicine. I needed it. For something.

And Credo would never give me something harmful. 

As I stormed toward the glowing embers Lady had ignited, Dante trailed at my heels, rambling some attempt at placating me. Lady was smirking at Dante’s concern as I rolled my eyes. I wasn’t going to burn his stupid coat. It was too warm to waste. 

Before I could reach the fire, my feet pinned in place. Dante stumbled to keep from walking into me. He said something I couldn’t hear, too focused on the roar coursing through my arm. As I held it up, the sleeves fell away to show the blinding glow of a warning. 

“What’s going on?” Lady asked, eyes narrowed as she reached for her crossbow. 

Dante’s gaze snapped around in search of trouble. “Calling demons to us again, kid? Where are they?”

“The lake?” Vergil suggested.

Lady snarled as an arrow clicked into place. “I hate water demons.”

My eyes fell shut. With each quickening pulse of my heart, my arm seared with a burn. They were close, but not the lake. The tips of my fingers prickled. 

My eyes snapped open. “Below us! Move!”

Either they all sensed the demons as well, or they saw fit to listen to me. We all darted from where we stood, Vergil ending up halfway across the field somehow. As I leapt back, a black wall swam up from the ground beneath me. 

It hid Lady from view, but she must have been alright because I could hear her snarling. “What are these?”

The air filled with them, like tattered black sheets had been whipped into a whirlwind. I’d seen them in books and heard Credo describe them, like a shadow given a life of its own. From everything I’d been told, they were supposed to only appear among the snow. The fact that they’d ambushed us out here meant I was obviously right about it being cold. 

“Mephistos,” I called. “They usually live in the mountains. Only come down when it snows.” 

No one had bothered with giving me a weapon - probably Dante’s fault - so I focused on the burn in my arm. Whatever was under the scales and blinding light rippled as I reached out for a demon far from my grasp. The phantom hand flickered to life long enough for me to swipe away a swath of the cloak. Like a rapier being bent, tension ripped through my arm until the inevitable snap. The recoil was a bitch. The phantom hand vanished, and the ground tilted under my feet as though it wanted to come up to meet me. 

The usual pain was back again, like my arm being ripped out of socket. Whatever had numbed it when I used it the night before was gone, but I had no choice. The arm was my only defense.

“Going anywhere with you assholes is a pain,” Lady said from somewhere ahead of me. I could no longer tell how far away she was through the dozens of inky cloaks, but I could hear the crack of her crossbow and the whistle of the arrows. “You’re always attracting something.”

“Can’t help it that we’re irresistible,” Dante said from somewhere to my left. The air whipped with the tell-tale signature of his claymore. “The Hell? They just slip through everything.”

“Maybe you just have shit aim,” Lady said. “I’m getting them.”

I could force my arm to tear at them in short bursts, but the phantom hand flickered like a weak candle. The pain had my chest rattling again, each breath a small burst of agony. I had to get over it, had to keep moving. When the slippery bastards weren’t aiming to sweep me off my feet in an irritatingly literal fashion, they were trying to punch me full of holes with their freaky fingers. 

“You still alive, kid?” Dante called as I managed to smash one into another. They fell to the ground in a tangled heap of wriggling red limbs. 

“I fucking hate these things!” 

“You and me both.”

Something slipped past my face, quick and sharp as an arrow. It left a sting on my cheek before tearing into the demon behind me, ripping away its cloak. As the demon tried to skitter away, another one of the bolts shot past me and into its head. Crystalline blue like Vergil's cloak, it appeared to be a sword.

A shower of them followed, forcing me to duck out of the way to keep from being skewered.   

“How irksome,” Vergil drawled. 

I looked up to see him framed by the ghost-like swords. They appeared from nothing and vanished just the same. I couldn’t believe that stuck-up prick had an ability so goddamned cool, and I couldn’t believe he’d nearly stabbed me through the eye with it. 

“Watch your aim, jackass,” I said. 

“You appear fine.”

I was going to break that jaw so he couldn’t be so smug and handsome and- Handsome? What the fuck? Vergil wasn’t allowed to be attractive because if he were, then so was Dante, and so was Sparda. They were all near-identical, and demons were not attractive. There had to be some law about that, some commandment. 

“Illegal,” I said. 

Vergil looked to me with his brows raised. “Did you hit your head?”

I stomped out the rest of my wandering thoughts like a fledgling fire and rubbed my hand across my face. “Nope, just still drugged. Drugged and tired.” That had to be it. 

My arm flashed in warning just in time to save me from taking one of those fucked-up fingers to the neck. It glowed the angry red of a brand in the grip of my equally-glowing hand. The point was a breath away from my throat. 

My leg hadn’t fared so well. The stab-happy bastard hanging overhead was different from the rest, bigger and with more of those murder fingers. What I guessed was his pinky pierced my thigh. The cut was so clean that I didn’t feel it until he retracted his fingers, and my leg tried to buckle. 

As I used one of the phantom hands to catch myself, my irritation boiled over. I would not deal with any more of these things. All traces of cold vanished as fire raced up from my arm and into my chest. “Enough of you,” I said. My voice seemed to echo, a growl under my words. My arm raised of its own will, reaching for something I couldn’t fathom. Two screams of protest answered, refusing my call. 

Very well. I did not require a sword.

As I brought my hand down, the demon shattered under my grip. A mad grin twisted across my face as satisfaction coursed through me like a symphony ringing in my veins. The remaining demons tried to flee. They met the same fate.

When the last one died, the song cut off, and reality slammed into me. My lungs felt shredded. The wound in my leg ate into me like poison until I couldn’t hold myself up anymore. 

Before I could eat the dirt for what must have been the hundredth time that week, someone yanked me upright. 

“I’m not riding with him anymore,” Lady said, her voice sharp and thin with distrust. 

“Hell of a show, kid,” Dante chimed in, “but stop wearing yourself out until you heal up, alright?”

They both sounded distant, so that left- “Honestly, you’re nothing but trouble,” Vergil said close to my ear. My inhuman arm hung around his neck, my side pressed to his. He was so close.

Close enough to punch. 

I didn’t have much left in me, but I gathered the last fringes of my strength to slam my fist into his cheek. Something in my hand cracked, but so did his his jaw. The force wrenched us apart. “Don’t think I didn’t forget about that kiss, you bastard,” I spat as my knees bowed out from under me. “Feeding me like a bird - what the fuck?”

I could hear Lady snickering and Dante saying, “Vergil, if you don’t put your sword away,” but their voices faded fast. I didn’t even feel myself hit the grass. Sleep dragged me into an endless fall that I couldn’t have hoped to escape. That was fine with me.

My dreams played to the tune of a persistent hum, a quiet song that followed me through twisted and muddled memories. By the time I roused, I was pretty sick of it, yet the song remained. It rumbled against my back to the beat of the hooves below. 

“Stop humming,” I mumbled, rubbing the glaze from my eyes. “You’re off key.” Looked like I was back on Ebony, which meant Dante was being a pain as always.

“Oh, Sleeping Beauty is up?” he said. “How are you feeling?”

“Hungry.” Drowsiness had me sluggish and heavy, but I couldn’t find any pain. My pants had a hole in the thigh to assure me I’d taken that hit, but prodding at the spot resulted in nothing but a dull ache. I couldn’t see any breaks in my human hand either. Once I cleared the gunk from my eyes, I found I could even see straight. “How long have I been out?”

Dante loosed one finger from his grip on the reins so he could point skyward. The sun had flipped horizons. “You were conked out all day. We’re not far from the meetup point now. Vergil says we’ll be arriving early, so we can stop for a bit if you want to eat.”

“Will he kill me if we stop?” Vergil was a good distance ahead and possibly plotting my demise. Still worth it.

I felt Dante’s laugh against my back. “He already tried earlier. If he hadn’t been aiming to cleave you in two, that might have been the funniest thing I’d seen in my life. You have some kind of death wish, kid.”

His voice was too worn to pull off the playful tone he wanted. Even a quick glance over my shoulder revealed the exhaustion in his face. When we stopped, I found that everyone shared it. Dark smears like bruises framed heavy eyes. I’d been the only one to get any sleep, and that was starting to make me feel like a dick. 

Vergil kept his distance, brooding several paces away while the rest of us ate. I wasn’t sure if an apology would have helped - not that I would give him one - but the storm of tension between us became a deluge when Dante and Lady both decided to nap. 

With dusk and silence pressing in, I waited for Vergil to come lop off my head. A last meal of dried meat and bitter tea wouldn’t have been my pick. If I made it back home alive, I was having pasta. 

“Feeling better?” Vergil asked so suddenly that I inhaled my tea. 

“Much,” I said through a few coughs.

“Seems your healing is working properly again. Still not as advanced as ours, but it does you well.”

“Yeah?” 

He wasn’t looking at me, eyes off somewhere in the horizon. I could read nothing in his tone or expression, no malice, no interest. “You do not have to believe me when I say this, as I doubt you will, but at this point you have a choice. If they continue to give you that ‘medicine,’” He bit at the word with distaste, “and you continue to take it, you will always be weak. You will be frail and fragile as they wish for you to be. If you do not take it, your healing will remain sufficient, and your power will grow. Your demon abilities have already awoken. You cannot rebottle that. You can only choose to attempt to control it. Even with the medicine, if you try to suppress and ignore your demon side, it is possible you will lose yourself and become violent. The only difference will be how dangerous you will be to those around you. So take it or do not. I do not care, but if you are ever a threat to my family or kingdom again, I will put you down swiftly.”

I took another sip of tea and tried to think of what gain he could have by lying to me. I could find none. The medicine being used to keep me in control made sense. I’d come to suspect that much. It did make me weak, but I’d always thought of that as a side-effect, not the intent. If Vergil were right… 

“But why would they keep me around if I’m a demon?” I said over the rim of the tin mug. I should have used that as an argument, a statement, not a question. 

“Because you are convenient to them for now,” he said. “The moment you are not, I believe they will rid themselves of you.”

My chest ached as though he’d punched a gaping hole through it. I didn’t know why I felt anything because he was wrong. He had to be wrong. I didn’t need to care what he said. 

I didn’t need to give a damn.

But I did because something in his words rang true.

That was fucking terrifying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why are y'all booing me? I'm hilarious.


	8. Piteous Overthrows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love my dumb gijinka sard boys.

I never cared for the throne room. The humans insisting that I should be their king was troublesome enough without the addition of a room where I sat above any who came to see me. When possible, I asked for visitors to meet me in my study. I thought it to be less daunting. The throne room was an empty hall so large even the slightest noise echoed. Stained glass towered along the east wall, bathing the room in faceted sunbeams. True, I didn’t care much for it, but the vast silence made for a nice place to think.

Or brood, rather. I needn’t kid myself.

As I sat, flipping my eyepiece between my fingers like Eva taught me to do with a coin years ago, the sunbeams retreated from the stone floor. I’d promised to wait through morning. I’d said nothing of the afternoon.

In answer to my weakening patience, one of the oversized wooden doors across the room cracked open. Modeus slipped inside. He was much like a shadow, cloaked in black and so silent as to be unnoticeable when he preferred it. “Sir,” he greeted with a polite smile, “are you calm enough for honest answers?”

“Ah, do I look that bad?” I asked. Considering I’d awoken him and his brother while seething like any good wrath demon, I couldn’t blame him for the precaution, but I thought I was hiding it better after a few hours.

“I’ve learned to be wary when you fidget. Never a good sign.”

I snapped the monocle to a standstill between my fingers before replacing it over my eye. Someone should have informed me sooner that I had tells, though I doubt I could have hidden my anxiety regardless. Dante vanishing was so common as to be expected. When I’d found Nero’s room empty, it followed reason that Dante’s room would be empty as well. He’d already kidnapped the little prince once, so I had worried it would happen again if he found out about Nero leaving. Dante became all too attached to others. Like a bear trap.

Perhaps he was afraid of losing someone again to forces outside of his control, but well, none of that mattered when I found Vergil gone as well.

Vergil did not leave unannounced.

“Please go ahead and explain your findings,” I said, and Modeus nodded. “But I make no promises that I’ll behave.”

He hid a smile by turning to the door. “Baul, you can come in.”

Baul, as opposite of his brother as he could be, shouldered the door open hard enough to slam it to the end of its hinges. Against his white clothing, the two bright swaths of red and blue stood out.

“Your Majesty!” Rudra chirped in greeting. He was either oblivious that he was being held up under the arm of a more powerful demon, or he saw no harm in it. Agni was too busy trying to wriggle free from Baul’s other arm to pay me any mind. They were both clutched around their middles, arms and legs dangling until Baul released them both, each landing on all fours like a cat.

“Tell the king what you told us,” Modeus said.

The two gatekeepers hopped to their feet as Agni led the round. “About everyone leaving?”

“Yeah, they all went out, and they wouldn’t let us go.”

“Who?” Modeus stressed to keep them from going too off-topic.

“His Highness-es? Their Highnesses?” Agni’s head tilted.

“And that lady, and the nice one who waved,” Rudra added.

Modeus stepped in again for clarification. “Lady and Nero. It seems they all left together several hours before sunrise.”

Lady going along with the group was a relief. She came the closest to keeping Dante in line out of anyone. But Vergil going along made me wonder if I’d arrived in some alternate reality and left me with more questions than answers.

“But no one came in!” Agni said, beaming with pride.

Rudra nodded. “Except when we let His Highness back in before we let everyone out.”

“Does that count?”

“I don’t think so.”

I needed to retrain them on gate duty. They were too thick-skulled for their own good, or anyone else’s good. Stifling a sigh, I stood and strode up to the two. They each accepted a pat on the head with bright-eyed stares of respect. I did let them get away with far too much, but they made punishing them so difficult.

“I’m glad you two chose such innocent-looking human forms,” I said.

“You told us not to be big and scary to humans.”

“We did good!”

“We did!”

I gave them both another, more-forceful pat to the head. “You both are too literal, which is good because I don’t care for hitting children. Now, do you know where the group was headed?”

Their smiles didn’t falter as they shook their heads. Once again, Modeus came to their aid. “We were unable to find any proper witnesses from the nearby settlements,” he said, “but the outgoing tracks suggest that they were headed southeast.”

Confusion wrote itself across my face. I’d surely found my way into an upside-down world. Vergil and Dante, who’d never agreed on anything in their lives, were heading out together toward… “The meetup point?” I asked.

“That seems to be the case, sir. I could find nothing else of note in that direction.”

Any other possibility would have been preferable. If they were headed to Fortuna, that placed both my sons in enemy territory, and despite all Fortuna’s preachings, I’d known its leaders to follow a mantra of an eye for an eye. My sons could defend themselves, of course, but that was a problem all its own, as I had tried to teach them not to harm humans.

If they went against my ideal for the own protection and killed Fortuna soldiers, Fortuna would call for war.

If they did not fight back, they would be captured, and I would surely do something rash enough to cause war.

Perhaps if they tried diplomacy… Well, Dante was about as diplomatic as a starved animal backed into a corner, and Vergil’s version of diplomacy held no room for compromise. I hadn’t given him the crown yet for a reason.

Whatever their objective, I could see no future in which things would work out for the better. At best, the results could be a learning experience for my foolhardy sons, teaching them what not to do. I would have preferred they learn lessons without causing catastrophe, though.

“Shall Baul and I follow them?” Modeus asked. “The drafted treaty is not in your study, so I believe they have it. We can intercept them and carry out the meeting as planned.”

Shaking my head felt cruel. “You’re far more optimistic than I, but Dante and Vergil will not listen to either of you. Whatever this reckless idea, they will see it through.”

Honestly, I wondered why I bothered giving my sons retainers in the first place. Placing Baul and Modeus as Vergil’s retainers was a mistake. The moment he believed himself to have rank over them, he accepted no guidance or orders. Dante never listened to them to begin with, and the most his retainers could do was hassle him until he gave up an inch. True, my sons rarely listened to me either, but I could not shake the desire for some modicum of control over the situation.

Eva, help me. This would be a hellish mess. But Fortuna had brought this upon itself, and with my sons and Nero caught in the middle, I could deny that no longer.

“I’ll go,” I said.

The disapproval in Baul’s eyes pierced through me. “That is foolish and you know it,” he said.

“Sir, we can’t have the whole royal family in Fortuna at once,” Modeus added, always rushing to patch situations his brother barreled his way through. “Leaving the castle void of any of you for so long while the situation is this volatile-”

A demonic growl cut into my tone to silence them. “It will only grow worse if I remain. I have played along with Fortuna’s whims for long enough. Pacification has gotten me nothing but more trouble. Whoever has placed himself in charge of that damned country will speak with me in person for once, so we can settle this. If it must come to bloodshed, that was always meant to be. Allowing Nero to return would already place blood on my hands, so I will intercept my sons, but only to ensure their safety, not to stop their advance.”

Though neither hid his displeasure, Baul and Modeus each gave in with a nod. “If that is your decision, we will respect it,” Modeus said. “We will look after the castle affairs while you are away. Please return safely with the princes and Miss Lady.”

I should have felt worse for not leaving my most trusted men any room to argue, but I could be as reckless and foolhardy as my sons, particularly when it came to their well-being.

“If I have any reason to believe there is trouble here, I will return promptly,” I said as I stepped past the group. The meeting would likely begin before I arrived unless I allowed myself to use my demon form. But that would cause more problems than it would solve, and Luce was light on her feet. I would reach them in time.

As I headed down the hall, I found two sets of rushing footsteps behind my own. Without turning, I could tell Agni and Rudra were nipping at my heels. “And where are you two going?” I asked.

“Dant- er, his highness promised we could go with next time,” one said. I couldn’t tell which without looking, and my eyes remained forward.

“Next time what?” I asked.

“He said we could go next time,” one brother said. Not an actual answer, but I wasn’t sure what I expect from them.

“He promised,” the other added.

After I trained them on gate duty again, I would teach them not to believe anything Dante said, but it couldn’t hurt to have messengers available. “Very well,” I said. “But hurry, boys. Do not slow me down, or I will leave you behind.”

“Of course, Your Majesty!”

“We’ll be very helpful!”

I was already hoarding regrets as things were, so adding one more to the pile couldn’t hurt.

* * *

The meeting point was not as advertised. For a country that decked out its knights in picturesque armor, they didn’t bother keeping up appearances with their architecture. The only light came from holes near the tops of the walls, with dust motes dancing in the moonbeams. Trusses and floorboards creaked with each step. Half the boards were cracked through, leaving me wondering when the place would collapse on top of us.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” Lady asked.

“Yes,” Vergil said with his usual brand of enthusiasm. “Though it was rude of them not to meet us here, the tradeoff should occur around sunrise at this location.”

“I don’t blame them for not being here,” Nero said. His arms were crossed, his glare burning a hole in the corner of the room. Judging by his tone and refusal to speak with me for the past several hours, I’d done something to piss him off. Not enough to make him give up my coat, though. “No one in Fortuna goes out at night, especially not this late. We stopped for the night at this same fort on the way to fight those demons.”

“A fort?” I asked. “If this is Fortuna’s idea of defense, they should stop investing so much in pretty uniforms.”

Nero’s lip twitched toward a snarl. “It’s leftover from the old wars. We have newer ones, but we didn’t have any need to upkeep this one. It’s still mostly together anyway.”

“Please, kid, I feel like it’s dangerous to breathe in here. I might inhale a century’s worth of dust.”

Before Nero could bite back a response, Lady snapped her fingers. The sound echoed endlessly through the high ceiling. “Before you two kill each other, let’s get some light in here. We can get that fireplace going.” She pointed toward the questionable pit behind a table lined with chairs.

“If you need some light, we had a box of candles and some flint,” Nero said. “I think I remember where they were. I can go get those.” Without waiting for confirmation, he darted off down the one hallway leading from the room.

Lady grumbled as he ducked out of sight. “What does he mean, ‘if _you_ need some light’? You half-demon fucks don’t need to show off that you can see in the dark. I can see just fine too, thank you.”

I knew better than to pick at Lady when she was sleep-deprived. She was scary enough on a good day, and exhaustion didn’t help matters. Bothering her had a chance of earning me an arrow where I didn’t want one.

Prodding at Vergil was equally like harassing a snoozing dragon, but I’d known him long enough to dodge the fire. As he pulled seal-stamped parchment from his pack and smoothed it out on the table, I sidled up to him. “What is it, Dante?” he asked, weariness aching in his eyes. I probably looked similar despite my best attempt at putting on a smile. The edges of my vision were taking on a dizzying hue.

“When are we going into Fortuna? You said we would go into the capital city.”

“I don’t recall saying anything about the capital, but the agreement was to meet the Fortunan officials here.”

That wasn’t what he and I had agreed on, though, and he knew it. “I’m not going to hand Nero over to them without a proper talk, you know. I didn’t come just to carry out Dad’s stupid plan.”

He sighed, running his hand through his hair. The wind had loosened some strands to odd frays. “Enough. I know.” Even the anger in his voice was worn thin. “I will see what I can do in negotiations, but you’ll have to stay quiet. With your lack of decorum, you’re bound to cause trouble.”

“Come on.” I nudged his side. “I’m sure you want to do some reconnaissance in the big city. I hear the place has all sorts of stores. Maybe we can get you another one of those books you like so much.”

When he didn’t respond, the sound of logs clattering together filled the room. Behind us, Lady tossed firewood into the pit like it had wronged her somehow.

“Sure this place won’t go up in smoke?” I asked.

“Should be fine,” she said. “This firewood’s the only new thing here. Someone must have left it recently.”

“Maybe the kid’s group.” Speaking of, I was starting to think he’d gotten himself lost. If he didn’t come back soon, I would need to track him down. Demons did love to nest in old dumps like this.

“Hey, Lady,” I called, leaning back until I was lying across the table.

“What?”

“Have you ever been to Fortuna?”

“No. I’ve heard enough stories from Trish to know that the place is a hellhole. I would have died happy never coming here.” After a few clashes of the flint, she leaned down to puff some life into a spark. Even as the fire began to crackle, she frowned. “I hear the slums in the capital are massive. Tons of poor and starving people.”

“Is that why they want our farmland?” I asked.

She shook her head as she stood. “You should really pay more attention to what’s going on, _Your Highness_.”

Even though she didn’t look at me, I stuck out my tongue. The formalities were my least favorite part of being a prince. My name took much less time to say. Dad hated them too, so I wasn’t sure why we let anyone use them.

“The church would claim the land, not the people,” Vergil said, always happy to lecture me, even as his gaze remained on the documents in front of him. “The divide between rich and poor in Fortuna is massive. The church has enough power to claim whatever it wants under the guise of it being for the good of the people, but Fortuna’s main goal is seafaring trade. Many wealthy nations lie across the sea at their other borders, and more farmland means more to trade. Their aim is silks, gold-”

A distant crash silenced him. The floorboards shook as a sound like thunder rippled through the fort. “Aw, Hell,” I muttered as I leapt to my feet. A cloud of dust drifted out from the hall. Though it stung my eyes enough to assure me that my healing was being put to work, I rushed toward the source, where dust seemed to add weight to the air.

“Yell if you need anything,” Lady called, more out of obligation than interest. Vergil made no promises to come to my aid. I decided to let it slide with how tired they both were, and the kid was probably fine. Probably. Wherever he was.

The dust cloud obscured the room like a blanketing fog, but it wasn’t enough to hide the cavernous hole in the floor. No light reached down the gaping, black maw. Even my eyes couldn’t make anything out. “Kid?” I called, my voice echoing in the pit. “Nero?”

If we’d come all this way only for him to be eaten by the floor, I was either going to break down in laughter or tears. I hadn’t gotten enough sleep for this surrealist nightmare.

A long slew of curses answered me, each one more colorful than the last. When his arm appeared, glowing bright enough to show off his scowl, he seemed to be in one piece. The fall wasn’t as long as the darkness made it appear. From what I could make out in the angry white light, the lower level was for storage, and judging by the casks near him, it was the best kind of storage.

“Everything alright?” Lady yelled.

My voice returned in an echo as I slipped over the edge of the splintered wood. “Everything’s great!”

Nero didn’t seem to think so. He threw me a glare that rivaled Lady’s as I filled my waterskin with what I confirmed to be wine and not more weird Fortunan poison.

“What are you doing?” he asked, regaining his feet with a wince. Dust fell from the shoulders of my jacket in waves with his every movement. Even more puffed away after I scooped him into a carry. Sure, a stairway back up had to exist somewhere, but jumping back to the main floor was easier. That earned me a temporarily-broken nose from a jab so quick that I didn’t see it coming. Considering the limp that plagued him as he ambled back toward the main room, snorting through some blood seemed worthwhile.

As he attempted to stalk off, he carried something in one hand that I didn’t recognize until I checked my surroundings. Through the thinned dust, I found the newly-expanded room to be an abandoned armory. Bits of metal lay scattered across shelves. All the good pieces had likely been picked over by scavengers long ago.

I trailed after the kid, but he stuck himself by the fire, sunk low in a chair, and refused to talk to me. Instead, he focused on fitting the new plating over his demonic arm. Age left blotches of rust across the metal. The resistance in the joints was clear from the way Nero’s brow pinched as he flexed his elbow and fingers. Despite that, he settled with the arm resting across his middle.

“You that scared of them seeing it?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, didn’t even look at me.

“Alright,” I said through an extended sigh. “I’m going to get some sleep. Don’t go wandering off again while I’m out.”

The fire was too warm for my tastes, and trying to sleep in a chair after endless hours of abusing my tailbone on horseback sounded less than appealing. Seemed I wasn’t the only one, as I found Lady settling herself on the grass outside, her pack as a pillow.

“Thought you wanted light,” I said.

“There’s a moon,” she said. “And it’s too goddamned dusty in there. The prince alright?”

“Oh, you care now? Didn’t even come check on me.”

“Don’t give a damn about you. Was asking about him.” Her words faded to mumbles as she let her eyes fall shut. She seemed asleep before I could answer.

I didn’t know where Vergil had disappeared to, but that was standard. He didn’t care for sleeping around others - liked to give some excuse about being vulnerable to attacks when sleeping. We all knew the real reason was that he didn’t like being seen drooling or with cowlicks.

As soon as I lay down, sleep hit me like a wall. Content as I was in my coma, Lady woke me all too soon with a boot to the ribs. “Sun’s coming up,” she said. “They should arrive soon.”

Sunlight burned behind my eyelids. I tossed my arm over my face to hide back in darkness. “Tell them to come back later.”

“I’ll tell them they can have the prince back free of charge, and I’ll even throw you in as an added bonus.”

“See, this is why no one stays to cook you breakfast. You’re no fun in the morning.”

She kicked me hard enough to knock the air from my lungs. The fading crunch of her footsteps against the dirt ended with the door slamming shut. Though my body dragged at the attempt like trudging through honey, I rolled to my feet and followed after her.

Vergil had crawled out from wherever and was examining some moldy book as he stood in the corner of the room. Still hunkered down in his chair, Nero had dozed off at some point in the night. How he wasn’t sweltering in two coats beside the dimmed fire, I couldn’t imagine. Lady must have been thinking the same thing because she went over to reignite the flames.

“Shouldn’t leave a fire unattended if you’re going to fall asleep,” she said as though to distract from her good deed for the year. “Think the prince is still a little sick?”

I shrugged. “Could be. I don’t think he’s realized he’s still wearing my coat, so he can’t be altogether, or he would have thrown it in the fire by now.”

“That’s a shame,” she said, dusting her hands on her slacks as she finished tossing fresh logs into the hearth. “So how long until they get here?”

“Should be shortly,” Vergil said without looking up from his book.

“Should be?” Lady echoed.

“I make no promises for Fortunans.”

“Shortly” left enough time for breakfast, which for me consisted of wine and bread with a stale edge to it. I took a seat near Nero, still impressed he’d slept through Lady tossing logs around and all of us talking. If I had to be up, I decided he had to be too, and I roused him by knocking the toe of my boot against his. He responded with a deep breath in and a slur of incoherence out.

“We’ll be meeting some of your friends soon,” I said. “Want breakfast?” To my surprise and amusement, he took my waterskin as I held it out for him. Watching him drink wine at dinners had brought me no shortage of entertainment, his face scrunching up against every swallow.

This time he just started drinking and didn’t stop, didn’t blink or cringe. The wine was good, but the more he drank, the more my smile slipped. In the end, I ripped the jug from his hands, forcing a laugh. “Take it easy, kid.”

Vergil would kill me if I got Nero drunk before the meeting. Lady too, judging by the accusing glare she pinned me with as she took a seat at my side. Not to mention all the pissed Fortunans.

Yawning, Nero straightened himself in the chair. “Damn, my ass is killing me. I miss beds.”

I shoved another bite of bread in my mouth to keep from commenting.

“Do we know who’s coming?” he asked. His words threaded together a bit - hopefully from weariness and not wine. No one got tipsy that quickly.

“Not sure,” Lady answered for me with my mouth full. “Is there anyone we should watch out for?”

Nero’s eyes, dim with emotions I couldn’t read, flicked to their corners. “Not really.”

I’d never met anyone who was less of a morning person than I was, but Nero was working his way toward that spot. The more I looked, through, the less I saw irritation. His arms were crossed, legs pulled in close, and he couldn’t hold eye contact for more than a moment in the rare instance he looked to us at all. I felt like a loud noise would send him scurrying to a corner.

The kid looked scared out of his mind.

“Are you happy to be back in Fortuna?” I asked.

One of the ugly-armored fingers swiped at his nose as he hummed a response that could have meant anything but a yes. Lady raised a brow but didn’t pick at the subject, either leaving it for me or wanting nothing to do with it. I couldn’t decide which. The kid’s thoughts were his own, and I didn’t need to pry, but I was curious. He was always hiding something. Poorly. He was a dreadful liar.

As I considered the best way to approach the topic, the wine kicked in, and a new thought dropped into the front of my mind.

“Hey, kid, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

“What?”

“Do you know how sex works?”

That woke him up. He jolted so hard that I thought he might fall out of his chair. His hand shot to his face to steady himself. Across the room, I heard Vergil sigh and flip a page in his book. A grin fought its way onto my face.

“What!?” Nero spluttered. “Yes, I- Why are you asking?”

“Innuendos tend to fly over your head. I just wasn’t sure if anyone ever taught you.”

Lady piped in, a smile shining in her eyes. “I hear the church is pretty stuffy. He probably only knows the basics.”

“You know men can have sex together, right?” I asked.

“Women too,” Lady added.

“And you can have more than two people.”

As we continued, Nero slipped down further and further into his chair as though trying to fuse with it. Vergil came to his rescue, slamming the book shut to silence us. “Enough. I believe the Fortunans are here.”

It seemed like a convenient lie until I heard the hoofbeats as well. Nero’s embarrassment and irritation fell away as fear iced over his eyes. Diplomacy and mercy be damned, I hoped we needed to fight the bastards. If those people gave him reason to be afraid, they had no right to take him back.

The group entered like they owned the place, which they did, but they didn’t need to act so haughty about it. Five men wore armor, and one had a stiff white uniform. Though I guessed him to be their negotiator, his eyes swept the room with distrust, gaze narrowing as it bounced between me and Vergil. The twin thing tended to trip people up, but stress bit into his confusion, the look of a man who wasn’t expecting us.

He knew who we were. I hated that I didn’t know him.

He appeared to be a few years our senior with a permanently-furrowed brow, yet when I looked to Nero for a hint on how much I needed to hate the guy, I found Nero looking like a dog whose master had just come home. A smile tugged at his lips as he sighed in relief. He started to say something, but it died in his throat as soon as the man brushed his finger along the bridge of his nose. Though I’d seen the same movement from the kid a dozen times, the action was too apparent to have been natural.

Judging by the way Nero sobered to a pinched frown, he didn’t care for the signal.

As the tense air tried to strangle the rest of us, Vergil stepped to the center of the room and gave the sweeping bow that he saved for the people he couldn’t stand. “Good morning, sirs. I trust you had a safe trip. If we could, I would like to briefly discuss the terms of our agreement.”

“He’s laying it on thick today,” Lady muttered.

The man’s voice was so thin and biting that it rivaled my brother’s. “What is there to discuss? We have already made the agreement. I will sign your draft, we will remove our soldiers from your land, and you will give us our prince.”

If that was all Dad made them give up, it was a weak treaty. Surely we deserved more reparations than that.

Vergil’s polite mask didn’t falter. “Not to be rude, but would you mind introducing yourself first? I’d like to know on what authority the treaty is being signed.”

“My apologies,” the man said in a tone too dry to be apologetic. “I am a general in Fortuna and adviser to the future king.” The corner of Nero’s mouth twitched at that. “I am Credo, and these are knights from The Order, our highest standing. And you are?”

“Vergil,” he said so simply that the lack of title stuck out like a sword through a man. With a flourish of his hand, he gestured to me and Lady. “These two served as our guards on the trip.”

Judging by Credo’s raised brows, he didn’t believe a word of it. And judging by Vergil’s fake smile, he didn’t give a damn. After everyone circled the table for what could have been the world’s most uncomfortable dinner party, especially with all the Fortunans refusing to sit, Vergil unfurled the treaty documents without adding the inkwell and quill he’d brought as well. He stood at Nero’s other side, if only as a show of spite. Nero stayed put. That may have been more of an act of laziness than rebellion, but I counted it as proof that even we were preferable to the Fortunans to him.

Admittedly, he looked like he was starting to nod off again.

“We would only ask for an addendum that we be allowed into the capital for a brief period,” Vergil said as Credo skimmed the flowing script. “We need to resupply, and the king hoped that we might be allowed to see the prince to the castle as a show of good faith.”

“We’ve already been over this with your king in our prior exchanges,” Credo said. Now that he was closer, lines of exhaustion stood out on his face. “You are to cut all contact with the prince. If you require supplies, you can get them from the peoples bordering the capital, but we will not allow you through the city gate.”

Though diplomacy wasn’t my strong suit, even I could tell the whole situation was skewed. Credo had no interest in speaking with us. He wanted the meeting over as soon as possible. I could make sense of that much, but when he held out his hand toward Vergil, asking for the ink and quill, I could see his fingers trembling. Like Nero, he was afraid of something.

Only the fire crackling at our backs kept the room from silence as whatever Vergil wanted to say seemed to slip away from him. He blinked a few times. Then staggered. His hands slammed into the table to keep himself upright as his legs buckled.

I wasn’t sure who I needed to kill, but someone was going to die. As I shot to my feet, the world warped. My vision melted into a dizzying blur. I didn’t feel my legs drop out from under me until my knees hit the floor. Lady spat a curse as the sound of her falling reached me.

The metallic singing of swords leaving their sheaths filled the air along with a snarl from Nero. “Credo, what the hell is going on?” As my eyes worked to stabilize, I could make out the kid’s claws digging into the table’s surface, keeping him as close to upright as any of us could manage. “Whatever this is, put an end to it. Don’t you dare harm them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everything in Fortuna is poison. Everything. 
> 
> If you like my dumb fic, consider leaving me a comment. I'd really dig it.


	9. Children's End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did I say? Ambiguous and unrequited pairings? Add kind-of lesbians in there.

The church officials in charge of The Order loved any excuse to sneer or glare. Any excuse to tell me that Nero wasn’t being raised properly, like I, hardly past childhood myself, was in any way capable of raising a child. Each year brought some new problem: Nero was biting people, or he’d learned to roll his eyes, or wouldn’t sit through his studies.

But the worst was his mouth. Even before someone – likely Kyrie for her own entertainment – taught him to curse, it seemed that every time he spoke to a clergyman he’d be rude or heretical with a straight face. Not only was he oblivious, he just didn’t care if he offended the stuffy, old men. I would have been amused if it didn’t always come back to bite me in the form of a lecture and them insisting that someone else should be brought in to better serve my position.

That did encourage me to edit Nero’s habits, not fix them exactly, but we worked out a system. Even on the worst days at the castle, when I wasn’t sure what to do with Nero, Kyrie, or myself, spite kept me going. From that came the first signal - brushing my finger against the bridge of my nose. When Nero saw it, he knew to stop talking at once. In essence, “Shut up. Let me talk for you now.”

More signals followed. My hands clasped behind my back meant that we were under watch and needed to be careful. When he was young, he’d lean all his weight to one foot and tap the toe of the other against the floor, a sign that someone was making him anxious, and he wanted to leave.

I always followed that by straightening the cuffs of my coat – “Don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.”

The movement was natural enough that it came to me without thought as soon as Nero growled his distress, clinging to the table to remain upright. Once he recognized my intent, his snarl faded, but his eyes remained narrowed on the knights around me.

Though I felt a twang of irritation that he didn’t have more faith in me from the beginning, I hardly had room to complain. I’d fed him poison for years. He didn’t owe me an ounce of trust after that.

Yet, as I turned to the knights, Nero seemed to speak to the Capulets. “Don’t,” he said. “Credo can handle this.”

I wasn’t certain what he thought any of them could do in their given conditions. The poison seemed to be gripping me as well until the weighted air and scent of ashes dispersed all at once. Regardless, I needed to work quickly. The knights steadied their stances and swords.

If The Order wanted to have this whole event come as a shock to me, they should have sent knights I recognized, or at least men who would have talked to me on the trip. Murderous intent was as subtle as a slap in the face when traveling in forced silence.

“Though you’ve already threatened my charge, and that would usually call for your deaths, I will give you the chance to leave and forget this,” I said. “I understand that you are following your orders, but you are in the wrong. Back off.”

I had minimal interaction with the rest of The Order knights, but I was their general by default of my position. That seemed to be enough to make them hesitate, glancing at each other.

Behind me, one of those damned princes spoke against the toxin dragging at his voice. “So he’s on our side?”

“I’m not on yours.” The knights redoubled their stances, their minds made up. “But I’m not on theirs either.” Let it never be said that I had not offered them an out.

“Now would be nice!” I yelled as the first sword tried to cut across my neck. Grabbing the chair behind me, I tossed it up as a shield. The sword caught in the wooden back, the weight dragging the knight down as the chair fell.

To assure me this mission was a threat my health, Sanctus insisted that I shouldn’t bring my sword, that I should be unarmed as a show of good faith. That went out the window with the addition of my five armed guards. They must have thought me an idiot.

An ear-piercing whistle sounded from one of the gaps in the upper wall as a shadow crossed the sunbeam. The knights all turned in time for a throwing knife to catch one between his neck and shoulder. One hand shot to the wound, leaving the other an easy target when Kyrie dropped in and kicked the sword from his grip.

“No worries, I’m here,” she said as she snatched the grip from the air.

“I told you to stay up there!” My command lost some impact when I had to roll away from another strike. My room to dodge was limited. Moving too far forward would allow them to circle behind me, and moving too far back would land me in the same position as Nero and the Capulets. But Kyrie remedied that issue once she tossed the sword to me.

“Let me help,” she said. Two of her knives slipped into her hands as neatly as gloves. “You can take care of them, but you have to let me help.”

I had little choice considering she’d already dropped into the fray. She was starting to make me regret training her in defensive combat, always ignoring the defensive part. Her steps were light as a dance and kept her far from any strikes. I had to trust her on her own for the time-being and refocused on the men in front of me. Their strikes were so heavy-handed, almost doubling over with each swing, that I doubted they’d used The Order’s swords before. It was no wonder I hadn’t recognized them. Poor bastards.

That did make their attacks simple to dodge, and I knew Order armor well enough that my sword bit between the plating of the first man, through his side, and into his gut. I watched his eyes glaze to emptiness. Just another corpse. They weighed little on my conscience anymore, but I did hate to kill in front of Nero and Kyrie.

The second man died much like the first after I parried the weight of his swing back against him. As I tore my sword free from the grinding screech of armor, Kyrie yelped. Surprise or pain, it did not matter. I shot my gaze toward her with every intent to tear into the man causing her trouble. He’d managed to snag her hair, still long even when tied back. Her knife came up to cut the end in his grip away, and before I could take a step toward her, the air whistled at my side. An arrow appeared through the man’s neck. He went down gargling on blood. The woman behind me muttered an unconvincing “whoops.” I found her leaning over the table to steady herself, an absurd crossbow in her hands. The one I felt certain was Dante clapped for her.

“How did you see straight enough for that?” he asked. “Everything’s all-” He made a whooshing noise that assured me I didn’t want to chance her firing another arrow even as she snapped one into place.

“Hey, this the only thing I do straight,” she said with a lopsided grin and a snort.

Dante cackled as I ducked away from another strike. “I appreciate the assistance, but I can handle the rest, thank you,” I said.

“Thank you!” Kyrie echoed, more genuine than I’d bothered to be.

The one she’d wounded upon her arrival must have realized she was playing decoy to aggravate him. He stumbled from blood loss as he spun on me instead. I wouldn’t have found him to be trouble any other time, but my swing was already aimed at the other remaining man, and I only had time to see the new attack coming, not to dodge it.

“No!” snarled a voice that must have been Nero’s yet was too twisted to belong to him. I felt like a portcullis had snapped down onto my shoulders, weight crushing the air from my lungs. The blinding light of the attack I’d sworn-off Nero from using slammed into the already-injured man. For Nero’s own sake, I imagined the crack of the man’s head hitting the wall hadn’t brought his death. After I freed my sword from the other corpse, I ran him through as well. Kyrie’s eyes were wide as they dragged from the dead man toward Nero, who was steadily slipping from the table’s edge. He fought to keep his eyes open.

“You all need to get outside,” I said to pull myself from the worries threatening to drag me down. “You’ll get worse if you stay there.”

Kyrie, as I should have expected, followed me toward them. “Hold your breath,” I reminded her, and she sucked in a gasp.

“Moving? Oh, wow, why didn’t I think of that?” Dante said in such a sarcastic tone that I was content to leave him there as I picked up Nero instead, tossing him over my shoulder.  

Nero howled a weak “no” as he lay limp as old herbs. “Stop carrying me.”

Though her legs trembled a bit at the effort, Kyrie scooped up the woman into her arms. The woman raised a brow but didn’t argue. “Thanks for saving me,” Kyrie said as we neared the door. “That was so impressive. Sorry about carrying you. I should have asked first. That’s a neat crossbow.” The woman smiled as Kyrie continued trying to ramble away her embarrassment.

“We’ll be fine!” Dante called. “Just leave us. It’s okay. Just dying slowly.”

“You’re not dying!” I shot back.

Nero still looked halfway to sleep when I set him down on the grass. A sitting position did him little good, forcing me to grab the collar of his odd, oversized jacket to keep him from tipping backward. Before I could ask him where his uniform went, he shook himself to a more cohesive state. “Go get Dante and Vergil,” he said mostly as one word.  

“They can probably still roll,” I said.

He smacked his armored hand against my shoulder like a rabbit thumping its foot. “No, go get them.” That was not the armor he’d left with either, and the pieces were too old to hold up to the strain of his attack. Cracks spidered up his arm, and the fingertips were gone altogether, showing just how bright the hand underneath had become. Once again, I had to swallow my nerves to keep focused.

“Fine, I’ll get them,” I said, though I imagined I would have to drag them out. They were the tallest people I’d ever seen.

“Too late,” came that snide voice. Again, I smelled ashes as I turned to find them both standing just outside the door.

“You can stand?” I asked. “What was all that show then?”

Dante shrugged. “We got better. You know, we never had a proper introduction.”

I didn’t recall asking for one. He was all-too-obviously trying to change the subject.

“That’s Lady,” he said without waiting for me to respond.

“Lady What?” I asked. She didn’t seem like any countess I’d ever met, but none of Capulet’s royalty acted accordingly.

Her eyes narrowed. “Just Lady.”

“I’m Kyrie. It’s a pleasure,” my sister greeted with as much of a curtsey as she could without a dress. If any of the parishioners found out I’d given her slacks, there would be Hell to pay.

I bit out an introduction as the wasted time began to eat at the back of my mind. “Credo, as I said before.”

“Likewise,” Vergil said.

“And I’m the better twin, Dante.”

I couldn’t help but narrow my gaze at him. “I know.”

His smile cracked into a grin. “That I’m better? Actually, I was wondering that. You know our status, don’t you?”

“I would be a fool not to know of Capulet’s princes.”

“They’re the princes?” Kyrie gasped. She was not helping my case. Dante bit his lip to hold back his snickering.

“But you and I already met,” I growled.

Dante’s head listed to one side until he snapped his fingers with the realization. “You were the other one on horseback. Sorry about stealing your prince.”

Judging by the dark gleam in his eyes, he wasn’t remotely sorry, not that it mattered. An apology from him was worth nothing. I was more concerned with Nero, already asleep on the ground. “How long was he by the fire?” I asked as I knelt at his side, smacking at his cheek until he roused with a grumble.  

“Then the fire was the issue,” Vergil said more than asked. “Explain.”

Despite being nothing like Dante, I found myself hating him as well. The only thing that kept me from snapping in response was Nero’s slurred, “M’fine. Stop hitting me.”

“I don’t know much about it,” I said. Only Agnus and the other alchemists understood their own concoctions. “It’s something with the wood, something they put on it. When it burns, it causes this strange numbness and dizziness in the surrounding air. You must have burned it for quite some time with how quickly it affected you.”

“Then you left that wood for us,” Lady said.

“ _I_ did not. I had no knowledge of the wood being left there, but I’ve seen them use the same method before to trap and kill, so I was suspicious.” The church made itself many enemies, most of whom tended to disappear. I tried to avoid involvement, but I was glad no one pried at the matter.

As Lady tested her legs, she sighed. “You Fortunans really need to take it easy with your weird poisons. At this rate, you’ll kill what little coherent thoughts Nero has left.”

“Bite me,” Nero said. I should have scolded him, but I could hardly remember how to breathe, let alone talk. Kyrie looked to me with fear burning in her eyes. She must have realized it as well.

The Capulets knew about the poison.

Then Nero…

“That’s right,” Dante said. His smile was gone, his expression dark. “Credo. You were the one who told Nero he needed to take that medicine.”

I must have looked pale. All the blood seemed to have left my body until I felt nothing but cold. “We didn’t know!” Kyrie said as she rushed to my side. “They said he needed it.”

“They?” Vergil pressed. “Everything is so vague with you Fortunans. At most, we might hear of the church or The Order, and always ‘they.’”

Kyrie gripped my arm tight enough to bring me back to life with a spark of pain. I owed Capulets no explanations. Nero was the only one I needed to apologize to for the poison. If I’d known sooner-

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. I would have preferred anger. His calm was a punch to the gut. “The medicine was to keep me in check, and that’s what it did. You wouldn’t have given me anything you thought was harmful.”

But even if I hadn’t known it was poison, I knew it hurt him. I’d known the side effects came from the medicine, and I should have been more insistent in asking what it really was.

“Credo tried to send a messenger bird to me about it when he found out,” Kyrie said, “but I’d already given you the doses. We thought you needed them. I’m sorry.”

Nero, who was the angriest boy I’d ever known, who flew into a spitting rage over the smallest things, just shrugged. “It’s done. Don’t apologize. If you really want to make it up to me, let’s get some pasta or something. Capulet’s food is lousy.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t have fed you then,” Lady said.

“Nero,” I cut in before he could start the argument on the tip of his tongue. “We must leave this area. You all should as well.” Each of the Capulets expressed varying degrees of annoyance at the suggestion. “The Order will likely send reinforcements to check on the situation. I’m going to remove the knights’ armor and burn the fort. I believe that will give us all enough of a diversion to escape without too much trouble.”

“And your Order is just going to be fine with you killing and burning its men?” Lady asked.

“There is much you’re not telling us,” Vergil added, “and considering your men attempted to assassinate us, I will not allow you to brush us off so easily. I demand a full explanation.”

“You don’t get to just have Nero back after you and your church tortured him for years.” At least someone was angry with me about that, even if Dante was not the right person. I’d spent enough time furious with myself, so I expected the same from Nero. If there were one thing I could always count on from him, it was unpredictability.

I didn’t care what Dante and his cohorts thought of me, but I doubted I had any chance of shaking them now. “I’ll explain fully if we leave promptly,” I said with a sigh.

Dante was little help, complaining when I opted to use the stored wine to help the fire along. Actually, no one was any help. None of them would explain the massive hole in the armory floor. They all glanced around as though they hadn’t heard me speak. Nero did not care for my insistence that he replace the old plating over his arm with armor from the knight closest to his size, and I received nothing but blank stares when I told all three princes they would require disguises if we were all headed anywhere near the capital.

“No one in Fortuna knows who we are,” Dante said. “What does it matter? If you’re worried about The Order, why don’t you just disguise yourself?”

Kyrie chimed in to keep me from trying to kill him “It’s not that you’d be recognized exactly. White hair is a big religious symbol in Fortuna. No one knows the prince’s face, but they know he has white hair. Just one person might start some chatter in a town, but we could write it off. Three, well, we’d be pushing it.”

“You’re both dressed like you have wealth, and you’re carrying swords,” I added. “The people will talk. Speaking of, Nero, what are you wearing?”

Nero’s brow puzzled before he looked down at himself. At his cry of offense, Dante broke into a wheezing fit of laughter. In an instant, the red coat appeared in Nero’s hand, and he tossed it over Dante’s head. The mismatched one he’d been wearing beneath it was not much better.

“You can’t be mad at me, kid,” Dante called as Nero stalked off. “You could have taken it off anytime. You were obviously cozy.”

Nero held up a fist with one finger sticking up in an odd fashion. I had a feeling I didn’t like whatever that was.

After the fort was a pyre, each of the princes washed their hair in ink. Vergil took one glance at his same-faced brother before deciding that he hated it. “We look terrible like this.”

“Really?” Dante took Vergil’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting the man’s face until Vergil slapped his hand away. “I don’t think I look too bad.”

“Nah, you both look awful,” Nero said. Though he didn’t seem to mind it for himself, I couldn’t find any comfort in the image. I’d made the prince a fugitive, forced him to hide his identity. The worst of it was that the ink would never fully wash out. He did look much better with white hair.

Even when I finally got everyone to the horses, another delay came in the form of the Capulets being stunned by Blue Rose. “Who even needs a horse that big?” Dante asked. “You’re so small, kid. It could carry five of you.”

Lady’s eyes narrowed. “She has fluffy feet. That’s cute. Why don’t we have these in Capulet? Vergil, you’re going to be king. Fix this.”

“No,” Vergil said.

I was starting to think we would never leave.

Nero ignored them, and for the first time in ages, I got to see him smile as he greeted Blue. She tolerated few but him, and he was the only one she would lower her head to.

“I rode her to Castle Capulet and back to here,” Kyrie said. “She’s strong as anything, hardly tired at all. I got the note from Credo on my way back saying I needed to standby at this fort just in case, and I’m glad I got here when I did because you clearly needed the help.”

He stuck out his tongue at her as Blue nosed at his hands for attention.

“You’d better bite that tongue, or I won’t give you your other girl.”

Nero seemed to snap back to his childhood, eyes shining with glee. “You brought her?”

“Blue Rose doesn’t like to run without her.” Kyrie unbuckled the holster from the saddle, letting the full weight of the blade drop into her arms. Though she struggled with it, Nero snatched up the grip in one hand.

I felt like I could breathe again, seeing him and Kyrie so happy. At least for now, they could be. For now, I would let myself be happy for them because it would not last. Everything was unraveling at the seams. I suppose it always had been, but Nero had been so unaware for so long. Keeping him from it may have been a mistake. Now I was letting the world fall out from under him.

So for just a while longer, I wanted to see him happy.

“You’re a hard man to hate,” Dante said, his voice low. I hadn’t noticed him at my side until then. He wore a calm smile once again. “I’m trying to be mad at you, and you’re getting all doe-eyed around the kid. Makes me feel like I’m the bad guy.”

“I don’t need your approval.”

“Oh no. You just want his.”

My hand came to rest on my sword’s pommel. “Keep your thoughts to yourself.”

Had he said anything further, I would have cut out his tongue, the bastard. He didn’t have to hate me, but I was content to loathe him. Though he kept his smirk, he did drop the topic. “So, kid, you’ve got a fancy sword and a horse as girlfriends? No wonder I never had a chance.”

“Don’t tempt me when I have a sword,” Nero snarled as he jammed the blade into the earth. “Red Queen’s got just as much bite as any of your weapons.”

Dante’s smile tinged with confusion under furrowed brows. “Wait, did you really name your sword?”

“What are you talking about? All your weapons have dumb names.”

“Okay, first of all, that’s not nice. They can’t help what their names are. Second, it’s pretty and all, but it’s just a standard falchion. Does it really need a name?”

Pointless as it was, I tried to tell Nero not to startle the horses. Only Blue didn’t shy away when he snapped the handle against the grip, sending fuel down the blade that ignited in a rush of flames.  

The sparks seemed to reflect in Dante’s wide eyes. “Can I have one?” he asked, grinning as he turned to Vergil.

“No.”

Clearing my throat, I reminded them for the dozenth time, “We need to go.” Finally, they listened.

Kyrie took one of the horses the knights no longer needed. We released the rest. We rode at a gallop until the first border town appeared on the horizon. Not wanting to draw unnecessary attention, I slowed everyone to a trot. Unfortunately, that also brought back the chatterboxes full-force.

“You like being tall, kid?” Dante asked, tugging his flashy black horse up to Blue’s side.

“I think I remember you being on your ass while I was able to keep myself up, even after I was near that fire way longer, so not the first time I’ve been above you.”

“Doesn’t have to be the last time!”

Now I knew he was just trying to aggravate me. Judging by Nero’s suspicion, he only understood that he needed to be annoyed, not why. I was fine with that. The less the Capulets exposed him to, the better.

“Hey, Credo,” he called.

Oh God, please don’t ask about the innuendo. “Yes?”

“Did The Order really think it was a good idea to kill Capulet’s princes? Did they incorporate the king into that plan? He’s fucking crazy.”

“Language,” I said through gritted teeth. Explaining the innuendo would have been preferable, though Dante spoke before I could begin to think of a proper response.

“They couldn’t have known we were the ones who were coming, so they were probably just aiming to kill whichever Capulets showed.”

“Why would they do that?” Nero asked. A beat passed before he noticed the true issue. “Wait, why wouldn’t they know you were coming? Weren’t you my escorts?”

That had been an oddity to me from the moment I arrived at the fort. Sending both princes to return another would have been odd even if our kingdoms were on friendlier terms.

“Did you not tell him?” Lady asked.

Dante shrugged. Guilt looked so unnatural on him that I couldn’t decide if it were genuine. “I thought he’d figure it out.”

“We weren’t subtle about it,” Vergil added.

I doubted they’d ever been subtle, and I could surmise enough from their words. “You weren’t supposed to be his escorts.”

“Hey, I kidnapped him once,” Dante said. “What’s one more time?”

Nero looked more dead-eyed than when he’d been half-asleep. “I’m glad no one’s killed you yet, so I can do it.”

“The boy makes a fair point,” Vergil said.

“Thanks, Brother. Love you too.”

“Not about killing you, though I’ve got the monopoly on that-”

“That doesn’t make me feel better.”

“Hush. I’m talking about what reasoning Fortuna would have to kill the escorts, regardless of rank. Just for outrage? Wouldn’t that reflect poorly on your knights?”

Something in his voice was all too sharp. It seemed to pick away at me to a truth he didn’t need me to speak. He already knew the answer, and he was just waiting for the satisfaction of being right.

“I already told you. I’m not on your side. I wasn’t defending you.”

Though my heart hammered in my ears, it wasn’t enough to drown out Nero’s call of, “Credo?”

I hadn’t heard him sound so lost in years. “You’ve done nothing wrong, Nero,” I said. “Nothing wrong, but… I believe it was a coup under the orders of the church. Truthfully, I don’t even think those were Order knights. I believe they were mercenaries.”

Dante’s horse thundered up to my side. “The kid’s not even king! You can’t have a coup!”

“An assassination then.” I could find no anger to tinge my voice. This was tricky enough to explain to Nero without the Capulets interfering. I was thankful for Kyrie, at least, who rode beside Nero and seemed to be trying to speak to him. If he heard, he showed no signs, lost in a war of his own thoughts.

“You Capulets were just scapegoats caught in the middle,” I continued. “We were expecting two escorts. It seems likely that the fire was to subdue Nero more than anyone, perhaps myself as well. They would have killed the lot of us, and the blame could easily be placed on Capulet.”

The last time Nero turned to me with such confusion and guilt in his eyes, his arm had begun to morph into that thing. “Is it because the church realized I’m a demon?” he asked.

My nails bit into my palm as I crushed the reins in my grip. Damn those Capulets. Damn them and whatever they’d told Nero. Hell, like it was their faults. _I_ should never have lied to him, not about anything. I thought giving him a childhood away from all the turmoil would be better.

“No,” I said. “They’ve always known.” And so had I, the one who’d always assured him otherwise. The one who’d always lied through my teeth. Perhaps I was far worse than the others had ever been because he always trusted me.

Nero said nothing after that, not a word, not a sound. He stared straight ahead yet seemed to see nothing. Dante tried to draw a reaction out of him a few times as Vergil’s prodding claws dug at me. “You’re holding back,” he said.

“I don’t owe you information.”

“Your country is aiming for war with mine. Whether you think the information is owed to me is irrelevant. If we are to have any chance of preventing this senseless war, you need to tell me everything you know about what’s going on. I suppose if you must have some information in return, I can tell you about Nero’s condition.”

“His condition? What could you know about that?”

Vergil’s eyes were as sharp as his words and twice as ruthless. “Don’t be dense. He is the same as we are - my brother and I. Only a partial devil if that makes you feel better, though he’s not quite as stable.”

Before I could even ask for clarification, it became apparent he would say no more. He looked down the bridge of his nose at me, waiting. “Very well,” I sighed. “But if we must dig up old graves, let us get to an inn first. I believe everyone could use a proper rest, and there is much to discuss.”

For once, perhaps because he was tired as well, he gave his assent with a nod.

When we arrived at a tavern where we could stay the night, it became apparent that the Capulet royals forgot to pack any of their fortunes. Three rooms came out of my pocket, yet the brothers had the gall to complain about sharing a room. I let them know they were welcome to stay with the horses.

Lady showed no mind of Kyrie’s company, and I felt certain the two could handle themselves without causing too much trouble, though Kyrie kept asking after that crossbow too much for my liking.

It seemed, for once, Nero would cause no trouble either. He followed me to our shabby room as though I were pulling him by a thread. As I closed the door behind us, I attempted a lame apology, but it fell away under his own haggard speech.

“You don’t have to, Credo. It’s fine. I always knew, really. Come on, I’m nothing divine.” He sunk down onto his bed with a smile that made my chest ache. “It was just a bit different hearing you say it, you know? I guess I knew they wanted me dead too. I guess I should have known that. I should have.”

He hadn’t cried in front of me in so long. It could have been hundreds of years ago when I last saw tears fill his eyes, yet it could have been yesterday. As always, I sat at his side, and his temple came to rest against my shoulder. His voice faded to a whisper to remain even. “Where are we going now? If they want us both dead, what should we do?”

“What do you want to do, my prince?”

It was an old nickname, the sort he’d grown to loathe over time, yet he accepted it with a weak smile. Ah, but that was a lie too, wasn’t it? Even now, I couldn’t bear to give him truths.

He brushed the tears from his lashes and steadied his voice with a sigh. “It’s my duty to fight to protect the people, so that’s what I have to do. I won’t let anyone control Fortuna who would see fit to harm its people.”

I’d known that would be his answer. It was the reason I’d brought us toward the capital, the reason I’d drilled those ideals into him for so long. “Then we’ll go to the castle,” I said. “And we’ll take it back.”

How cruel, how sick of me to make him a pawn of my own after all the church had done to him, but I would protect him to the end, as I’d sworn. The rings weighed ever-heavy on my fingers. I’d made too many promises in my life: to my parents, my little sister, the church, and to Nero, who had the least to do with any of it.

* * *

“Your Majesty.”

“Your Majesty!”

“Are you upset?”

“Don’t be upset! They’re just dead humans.”

Another beam crumbled to ash under my boot, and I retreated back to stabler ground. Agni had already fallen into one of the underground passages and was coated head to toe in ashes. Not that he cared, but I wanted to avoid a similar fate.

Rudra poked at one of the burnt corpses until I told him to stop. “Be respectful. No creature is ‘just’ dead. What troubles me is that I’m missing much of a story here. And it seems my sons are worse at diplomacy than I could have predicted.”

Judging by the tracks leading out, I wasn’t far behind. A bit later than expected, though. Always just a bit late.

“Is it that my sons are excellent at getting into trouble, or that I’m terrible at stopping them?” I asked.

Agni and Rudra considered it with drawn-out hums.

“Both!” Rudra decided. Agni nodded in agreement.

I couldn’t argue with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lisbins  
> Lezbenz  
> Lessbeans
> 
> Idk I just wanted Kyrie to princess carry a cute girl.


	10. Patient Ears Attend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is twice as long as my usual ones, so I hope y'all enjoy my suffering. Now, who's ready for five hours of talking?  
> Small plot point dedicated to Pikachubird, who enables my terrible sword boys.

I'd never had to buy anything before. Credo and the clergy took care of all that, so the value of coins was lost on me. I knew Credo had some money stashed away in his things, but even if I'd been able to find it, it wouldn't have done me much good. The moment anyone asked me for an amount in payment, I'd look like an idiot who didn't know how to count, stuck with a handful of different coins.

I wasn't going to wake up Credo just to tell him I didn't know how to buy myself breakfast. The smell of fresh bread from downstairs had my stomach growling so loud I thought I might wake him regardless. Since we were back in Fortuna, maybe the tavern owners were making a real breakfast of pastries and jam. The thought sent my stomach into a fit of whines again. Credo must have been as exhausted as he'd looked because he didn't stir even as I slipped out of bed and toward the door.

I was glad someone had gotten some sleep because I'd spent most of the night counting the ceiling beams. That was bound to happen with how much I'd overslept the past few days, but I felt that most of the poison should have been out of my system by now. Other than the sting in my eyes reminding me that I hadn't closed them for the night, I felt back to normal. No more swirling landscapes or unsteady steps. The air did tinge with weight as I headed downstairs, but it felt like wearing a blanket, cozier than concerning. Probably just my body trying to convince me to go back to bed. Too bad my stomach wouldn't allow that.

No one else from our group was down in the tavern, dotted with a couple bleary-eyed workers and only one other patron. That surely had something to do with the sky outside just starting to tinge pink. Dim blue still hung overhead from what I could see through the small window.

The hooded cloak the other patron wore hid much of him. One of the women who I assumed ran the place talked to him over the counter, though she looked like she wanted to shoo him out. At his feet, two dogs sat at attention. They were scruffy little mutts whose pointed ears flicked toward me as I reached the ground level.

I'd seen dogs at a distance before. Fortuna Castle had fewer windows than Capulet's, but my favorite was the one up the north tower, where I could watch the city below as if it were a framed painting. Like the rare times I was able to stay up late enough to see the night sky, anytime I spotted a dog, I was thrilled. So I wasn't going to complain when they trotted over to me. Savior knows what they'd rolled around in, not that I cared. I dropped down to my haunches and ruffled the closer one's fuzzy head. It was softer than expected and stuck out a little pink tongue. If I survived all this, I was getting a dog.

When the second one neared, I had to reach out my armored hand. The contact with its head sent an electric flash up my arm that must have glowed beneath the plating just like the sudden clear blue of the dog's eyes. The castle did have stray cats, and I'd pet enough of them to know that wasn't a normal reaction, but the dogs couldn't have been demons. I would have sensed it sooner. Tapping my clawed hand to the other dog's head, I watched his eyes shine red. The same ripple rolled up my arm in warning.

If they were some sort of low-level demons, I needed to warn everyone. Weak demons could work as scouts for stronger ones. Before I could stand, though, a shadow fell over me.

"Little prince, what did you do to your hair?" came an all-too-familiar voice. My head snapped up to see Sparda, just the same as ever except the cloak that did little to obscure his identity. Though his brow was furrowed, his eyes held clear relief.

"You don't like it?" I asked with a smirk as I tugged on a strand of stained bangs. Seeing black in my peripherals still bugged me.

Sparda's smile struggled. "Well, it's… different. I'm partial to the white myself. I did choose it, after all."

I hoped he didn't notice my wince. I'd tried to forget that his appearance was all a ruse. Seeing what he really looked like under that fake skin wasn't a fond memory. Not that his demonic appearance was frightening. I'd seen much worse from demons, and he was still more on the humanoid side anyway. But if the thing that had taken over my arm kept spreading, if I turned into something like that…

"Are you hungry?" Sparda asked, his smile far from any worries. "I was just getting breakfast myself."

The dogs kept trying to nudge my hands for attention until I popped to my feet. "Yeah, what's there to eat?"

As it happened, Sparda had no idea what any of the things he'd ordered were, and he'd ordered a mountain of food. "How is it I asked for so many things, but they are all bread?" he murmured as I shoved the nearest pastry into my mouth. The cider they served us was thin and weak, but I wasn't going to complain. Still better than everything in Capulet.

"How'd you know where to find us?" I asked. He'd stuck us at a corner table, likely so we could talk without trouble. "Did Dante or Vergil contact you somehow? You got here so fast." The more I thought about it, the less sense it made, and Sparda laughed.

"Oh no, my boys did not make it easy. You were a hard bunch to find. Asking after a group of young men with white hair earned me some curious stares. I thought some tracking dogs might help, but they didn't do much." He toed at the lounging dogs under the table as I slipped a pastry to them. The two devoured it in seconds.

"Aren't they demons? My senses are kind of weird, but I don't think they're dogs."

"Oh yes, apologies. I didn't want to startle you awake with how your arm reacts to me, so I made sure to stifle your senses as I had before." His smothering needed to stop feeling comfortable. "But you're correct. The dogs are Agni and Rudra, two of my guards."

"The small ones?" I'd wanted to say "dumb," but they could probably still understand that much.

"Then you have met them? They do seem fond of you, but they adore any attention."

"And the owners of this place don't care if you have dogs inside?" I asked. Most of the castle workers back home shooed out any cats they found, and the woman behind the counter was still scowling.

Sparda's smile was so sugary sweet that I wondered if it gave him a toothache. "If they mind, they have not mentioned, so I imagine it is fine."

People didn't even need to know he was a king to understand that telling him no was pointless. "So, what are you doing here?" I asked. "Is it a good idea to have the whole royal family in Fortuna?"

The shine in his eyes vanished. "Ah, no, my idea was as foolish as my sons', but it seems nothing has worked out as expected. Would you mind catching me up on the situation? I must admit I'm anxious to know what my sons have gotten themselves into."

"Where do you want me to start?" I asked. The sleeplessness started to feel heavy on my eyes. I couldn't hide the weariness from my voice.

"Before you left the castle. Actually, after you and I last spoke would be good."

"What?" But even as the question left my mouth, realization slapped me in the face. "They said they weren't supposed to be my escorts, so you didn't…"

Sparda crossed his arms as he sat back in his chair. "I was not privy to this outing. I was going to provide you with my most trusted guards as escorts, but please, do tell me of your travels."

Though I wanted to ask if he'd come all this way just to get onto his sons, I settled myself with another pastry and explained away everything I could remember. Talking to him was easy, distressingly so. I knew better than to tell anything to a demon, yet I didn't even gloss over the medicine. When I explained it, Sparda's eyes darkened, but he said nothing. He didn't interrupt once, silent until I ended with a shrug and "So we came here."

When he did speak, the rattle under his words made my arm spark again. "And why did you come here?"

"I'm going back to the capital," I said, certain of something for once. "I'm going to reclaim my throne." Then again, reclaim implied that it had been mine before. I'd always just been the prince, and I wasn't sure I'd know what to do with the throne when I had it.

Sparda breathed a sigh that washed the anger from his expression. "I suppose, with everything that has happened, I'm glad my sons intervened. I should not have returned you to Fortuna. That does not mean that they are not in trouble, but I suppose we'll need to sort things out before I can get onto them properly."

"Sort things out?" That didn't sound good.

"Yes, a fallout is coming, Nero, and the capital is bound to be the epicenter of it all. Perhaps my coming here was for the best, as I want to be able to intercept directly." Wearing a smile void of joy, he reached over and ruffled my hair. "We will take care of this together. Do not fear."

"What's with you Capulets and wanting to get involved? Credo and I can-"

"Ah," he said a bit too loud as he looked at his hand. Smudges of black tinted his fingers.

"Yeah, the blankets didn't survive," I grumbled, sinking down in my chair. "I'm worried about taking a bath, but I'd really like one."

"Would it turn gray if you tried to wash it out?" Though he was clearly trying to divert my attention, I couldn't seem to stop myself from going along with it.

"Damn, I hope not, but it would almost be worth it to see Dante and Vergil, I guess." Speak of the devil. Actually, no, that phrase was obnoxiously too on the nose, but making fun of Vergil must have summoned him. He stalked down the stairs looking as irritated with the world as ever.

What I'd said seemed to have dazed Sparda too much for him to notice his son's arrival. "What?" he said, his eyes glassy. I nodded toward where Vergil stood over his shoulder, and though I couldn't see Sparda's face when he turned to look, I did hear him whisper, "Oh, Eva would be furious."

I couldn't see how anyone could be mad because both twins looked hilarious with black hair. I must have too because it clashed with everything about them. The only thing funnier was how Vergil's whole form seized up the moment he spotted his father. He looked like a startled cat, spiky fur and all.

"What are you doing here?" he hissed as he stormed up to the table.

That terrifying smile returned in a flash. "Nero has caught me up on the situation, and there is little point trying to make me return now, so would you like to join us for some breakfast? I bought so many of these curious breads." I wasn't sure I'd seen him eat one. "Sit down. I will order you some cider." He waved to get the barmaid's attention, and she rolled her eyes so hard I thought she might pull something.

Despite the way Vergil's white-knuckled grip shook against the sword held at his side, he took the seat next to me. I would have preferred he sit closer to his father, so I wouldn't get a sword through me in one quick movement. I guess it wouldn't have mattered either way if Vergil felt like stabbing me.

"Good morning, son," Sparda said as though the tension between them wasn't stifling. "How are you? Did you sleep well?"

"Out with it, Father. What do you want?"

That sounded like a "no" to me, but I couldn't blame anyone for sleeping poorly in a shared room with Dante.

"There's much to discuss," Sparda said. "But we can wait until everyone is up for that. I was wondering, though, did Nero have any more of those spells?"

"You mean the rampages?" Vergil drawled.

"Hey!" I butt in. "I'm right here!"

"I wasn't certain that you would recall," Sparda said. "You seemed so dazed afterward, and with what you said about the poison-" Rather than finish his thought, he tossed his hands up in a shrug. Despite what Dante said, I was going to find a way to hate this man.

Vergil accepted a mug of cider from the haggard barmaid and dunked his pastry in the drink, which was honestly offensive. "There was a moment when we encountered some demons," he said once the woman had retreated. "It seemed he was more in control at the time. I imagine that may have been because he was already focused on a proper enemy. He made interesting use of that weapon on his arm."

"That is my arm."

Vergil shrugged. "Do you recall what happened then? When you killed the larger one of those odd cloaked demons?"

Humming, I scratched at the tip of my nose. "It's hazy. I mostly remember a weird rush, I guess." Punching him in the face came back clear as day, and that was all that mattered to me. With how smug he sounded, I had to bite my tongue to keep from reminding him.

"As I doubt you have a true Trigger, I believe that was as close as you could get. As expected, it's not much, little visible evidence at all, entirely hinging on the arm, but I suppose it's enough for you."

Sparda placed his hand to his chin, frowning. "A completed Trigger in a state like that? I suppose it's possible."

I wasn't sure what they were talking about, but I could tell I should feel insulted. "Trigger?" I grumbled.

"Did Dante not explain them?" Judging by the irritated tinge to his voice, Vergil already knew the answer. "Honestly, he is useless. You recall back at the fort, when you told us not to interfere? What did you believe was going to happen?"

My eyes fell shut as I tried to remember the fight through the drug-induced haze. Even then, the swell of power from Dante and Vergil had been unmistakable, clearer than anything. "There was all that demonic energy," I said as I opened my eyes again. "I thought you might try to jump in the fight even though you could barely move."

"We were aiming to disperse the poison's effects with our Devil Triggers. You can think of it as a release of all that pent-up energy, a form in which your body will mend itself and your demon side is given a face. Because our blood is mixed, it is the most powerful form we can achieve, and it can only be held for so long. Devil Arms can work as a means to concentrate that power to maintain the Trigger more readily."

"Devil… Arms?" At some point, I would have thought the devil part to just be implied. They didn't need to stick it on everything.

"Weapons imbued with the power of a demon. You have already fought with one before. I believe I heard Dante say he would let you use Rebellion, yes?"

Sparda sat up. "He did what?" Disapproval danced behind his eyes.

Vergil continued without acknowledging his father, so I thought it best not to either. "My Yamato is a Devil Arm as well." He held up the sword balanced in the flat of his palm. "The weapons prefer to answer to their true owners, but some are less picky than others." When he held the sword toward me in offering, I knew better than to think he'd had some revolutionary change toward kindness. Vergil wouldn't give up anything without some gain for himself. That wasn't enough to make me shy away, though. Recalling the way Alastor hurt my human hand, I reached for Yamato with the demonic.

Even before my hand closed around the braided grip, a scream erupted through my head. Not the scream of any human or beast, but an impossible, grating shrill like shredding metal. My arm hummed with such violent vibrations that the pain almost numbed me. But with Vergil smirking at me, I wasn't going to let go of the damned thing.

"Loud," I growled, all the eloquence I could manage with the constant noise wracking through my skull. I should have expected Vergil's sword to be as annoying as he was. But as I continued to hold it, the sound faded, and the buzzing in my arm stopped, replaced by a pulsing glow so bright that it shone through the cracks of the armor like a geode through rock.

"Vergil, enough," I heard Sparda say as Yamato took on a blue glow of its own. When the sword was torn from my grasp, I felt as though Vergil had torn my arm off along with it.

"How troublesome," he said, glaring at me from the corners of his eyes.

Sparda rapped his knuckles on the table with none of the subtlety he must have wanted, but it was enough to grab our attention. "I'm surprised that Nero does not use a Devil Arm considering how the Fortunan rich like to collect them, but perhaps we can find one there to his liking. I imagine there must be a stash of them somewhere in the castle."

Vergil's fingertips brushed Yamato's grip. "You never mentioned this before, Father."

"Did I not? Strange. Nero, did you have anything else you wanted to know about being part demon? Vergil certainly knows more on the subject than I."

Sure, just throw me under the carriage. Sparda must have been running short on distractions if he were looking to me for help. After taking another moment to glare at his father, Vergil turned back to me. "Ask what you wish. I do not mind. It would do you well to understand yourself."

As I eyed him, waiting for some sort of trap or snide remark, the only change was a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Well," I huffed. "It's just weird to think that one of my parents had demonic blood, but I guess you wouldn't know anything about that."

"That would likely be the case," Vergil said over the rim of his cider. "I don't believe you to be half demon, perhaps a quarter, though it's impossible to tell. Father, you met the former king and queen of Fortuna, didn't you? What would your appraisal be?" Eyes like daggers snapped into Sparda, who hid his mouth behind his hand. His brow pinched.

"Yes, though that was many years ago, and mixed blood is not always immediately apparent."

So few people would talk about my family that I couldn't help but lean over the table toward Sparda until the edge bit into my gut. I'd spent years scrounging for information like a rat looking for crumbs, and though Sparda leaned back, he would not escape giving me answers. "You met them? What were they like? Did you meet my brother too? Was he like me?"

"Yes, I do recall the young prince," he said. "I can't say if the two of you were similar. He was quite small at the time, and he hid from me more than anything. The king and queen were… Surely those at the castle would remember them better than I. Our meeting was so brief."

With a growl, I dropped back into my chair. "You don't remember."

Sparda's hand slipped from hiding his expression to reveal another smile. "I'm very old. You must forgive my poor memory."

I let myself sink into a sulk. "Whatever. No one at the castle remembers much either, or I'm not allowed to talk to them."

"Not allowed?" Sparda asked.

"I can only talk to a few people. Credo usually talks for me."

"Credo is the guard of yours, yes? What about the girl?"

"Kyrie? She's one of the chapel girls. We're not really supposed to talk, but we've slipped each other notes and stuff for years, so we've been friends for a long time."

Vergil made a humming sound as he sipped his cider. "Fortuna teaches its chapel girls to use throwing knives?"

She'd surprised me with that too. I'd known she could defend herself, but she always seemed too sweet to hurt anyone. Seeing her attack knights was like watching a lamb bite a wolf. "I think Credo trained her like he trained me," I said. "She's always been kind of like a spy for us around the castle."

"But she was the young woman who gave you the poison at the castle," Sparda said. "And Credo gave it to you as well. Considering how Fortuna has tricked you in the past, are you certain you can trust the two of them?"

The dishes rattled as my armored fist came down on the table. "They saved us at the fort," I snarled. "They would never betray me." Anyone else could - the church and the Capulets - but I could trust Credo above all else, and if he put his faith in Kyrie, then I could trust her as well.

"But they are hiding something," Vergil said. "The way they work together with you is curious, and I cannot place complete faith in them until they are honest about what they know."

If the dogs hadn't been sleeping on my feet, I would have kicked him. "They don't need your faith."

Sparda patted his hand against my demonic one until I yanked my claws from the tabletop. I hadn't felt myself digging into it. "I'm certain they have many secrets they must keep," he said. "As do any of us. It must be difficult for them with how the church makes its clergywomen abstain from relationships."

The more his words sank in, the more my nose wrinkled. "What the hell? They're not like that. Ew."

"Oh," Sparda chuckled. "I shouldn't have assumed, but by the way you spoke of them, they seemed close."

"They're siblings, Father," Vergil said.

I tossed my hands up. "What!?" The Capulets needed to stop proving themselves as a bunch of idiots. "No, they're not."

Vergil, the dick, had the gall to look at me like I was the fool.

* * *

As long as the ink didn't stain my clothes, I didn't care about wearing it, but I wasn't sure it would be coming out of the bed linens anytime soon. It had been Credo's idea to use the ink in the first place, so he wasn't allowed to complain if he had to pay the tavern for the sheets.

"I'm up," I called as Lady kicked the door for the fifth time. "No need to destroy property unless you're that eager to see me without pants. Not that I'd blame you-"

"No one wants to be subjected to that, Dante," she snarled. "Just get your useless self out here. Every time you say you're up, you just go right back to sleep."

As I hopped into my pants, I heard another girl laughing outside my door. Seemed Lady had earned herself a tag-along fan. "Okay, but I'm actually up this time," I said. "I swear. Did you bring me breakfast?"

"I don't have any money, so you just get to starve."

"Don't worry," followed the gentle, airy voice of Kyrie. "Credo and I can get everyone something to eat." Considering putting us up for the night put Credo in a foul mood, I wasn't so sure he'd be keen on feeding us too. He looked caught between murder and suicide every time Vergil or I spoke to him, so I had a feeling he would get a kick out of seeing us starve.

"Didn't we come to town to restock on supplies anyway?" I asked. "How could we do that without money?"

I could almost hear Lady's teeth grinding. "Did you really believe your brother when he said that?"

"Well, if Nero's not the prince anymore, why did we come here then?" There was no point in bringing him somewhere that wanted him dead, except to crack a few skulls of those who'd tried to hurt him.

"You're an idiot, Dante. You really want the war to fall on Capulet's head?"

Right, there was that whole blame game. If we were going to have a war, we needed to just get it over with. I breathed a sigh before answering. "I didn't say I didn't want to come. I still want to see the capital and all. Just seems like a bad idea to take the kid with us."

"He's not in our custody anymore. We don't get to decide that."

Her usual glare was settled on me as soon as I opened the door and likely before that. I answered it with the same grin as ever. "We'll see about that."

She gave a noise of disgust before turning heel and stalking away. Kyrie held a hand to her mouth to hide her giggling as she trailed after Lady. Taking my place in line after them, I headed for the stairs. Whatever our reason for coming, I felt certain we didn't have a plan. That was standard for me, but Vergil never went in blind. It must have been eating him up that the whole mission was turning into a mess. But things would work out, even if we had to take on the whole Fortunan church.

I hoped that wasn't the case, though. It would really put a damper on things and wouldn't be the best first impression on the people of Fortuna. "Hi, I'm the neighboring prince. Sorry we destroyed your religion," never went over well.

Nero and Vergil were already awake, judging by the hissed argument from downstairs. "You don't know what you're talking about."

"And you do? Who was the one who spent years eating poison unaware?"

"That has nothing to do with this!"

A third voice, familiar as a hangover, chimed in. "Perhaps we could just ask them."

"No!" snapped Nero, which was about how I felt too. Lady, frozen a few steps from the ground floor, let out a long, slow breath to steady herself.

"What's wrong?" Kyrie asked.

Lady responded with an unintelligible grumble, so I took over for her. "Dad's here."

"You father?" Kyrie's eyes grew wide with stars as she looked back to me. "Isn't that the king?"

Shaking her head, Lady trudged down the last few steps. "I don't know why I expected anything different. Let's go ahead and face our lecture. But remember, I thought this was a bad idea."

Like a doe in human form, Kyrie pranced down and rushed over to the table. Her smile was so bright that it startled Dad when he turned to find her at his side. "So, you're-" Equal surprise overtook her. "Oh, we've met, haven't we?"

Dad laughed, making a good opportunity for me to slip into a chair beside Nero and nab some bread. Vergil threw me a glace over the kid to let me know how annoyed I needed to be with Dad.

Very, as it turned out.

"We didn't have a proper introduction," Dad said. "I am Sparda. You must be Kyrie."

While they oozed niceties, I picked up one of the dogs - Agni, I guessed - at Nero's feet. "Wow, Dad did a number on you two, didn't he?" I said.

Lady poked at Agni's nose as she stepped around me to take a seat. "I wouldn't have thought they could get more annoying, but here we are."

"Unlike others, they have been well behaved," Dad said, unable to hide a cringe as he looked at me. Probably the hair. If he disliked it that much, he must have had a fun morning between Nero and Vergil.

"We'll have to dye yours too, Dad," I said as I dropped the dog back to the floor, where he plopped down at Nero's feet again.

"Must we?" Dad sighed.

Kyrie hummed in thought, looking Dad over like a puzzle. "If you looked a bit older, it wouldn't be a problem. You look so young, almost the same age as your sons. It's amazing." Vergil coughed to hide his laugh, and I shoved a roll in my mouth. "But, if it's just you, and you keep the hood up, it might be alright. We can ask Credo. Just try not to bring too much attention to yourself in the meantime."

That couldn't end well. Dad didn't know the meaning of subtly.

"Wait, why couldn't we just use hoods?" Nero muttered.

Dad looked like he'd aged a few years from the conversation alone. "I will do my best."

Either oblivious or uncaring, Kyrie glanced around the room with a frown. "Is Credo not up yet?"

"He seemed pretty tired," Nero said. "He was still asleep when I got up."

"Wow, you getting up before him – I never thought I'd see the day."

"Hey!"

The cutesy tone vanished as she matched Nero's stare. "'Hey' what? I'm right."

I was starting to like her.

After snatching a roll, she said she would go wake Credo and darted back upstairs. "Siblings," Vergil said.

Nero's claws drummed against the table. "They're not."

Dad cut in to congratulate me on waking before midday, but he hadn't come after us just for pleasantries. I wasn't going to let him feign innocence. "So, what are you going to do about Fortuna now, Dad?" I asked. "Still okay with handing the kid over?"

He let his mask fall away, his smile fading. "You know, Castle Capulet was built close to the southern border to make communications with Fortuna easier. It was foolish of me to allow negotiations to become so distant, but I will speak to whoever is in charge now, and I will make sure he is in charge no longer. I would ask that the two of you return home with Lady. I will handle things from here."

"No," I said.

Vergil shook his head. "You've kept us separated from enough, Father. We are not children anymore."

That must have been the answer Dad expected because he didn't flinch. "I suppose it was pointless to try," he said, "But if you're going to be involved to the end, you must tread lightly. What happens next will be a gamble in many ways, but I believe most Fortunans would rally under Nero over the church officials. The people have been trained to believe Nero is not just divine but also their rightful ruler. Therefore, we should be able to use Nero's influence as leverage to gain him his proper status. We can worry about the church after he has the throne."

Despite more holes than a tree used for target practice, we at least had some sort of plan, but Nero didn't look thrilled. He was caught in a staring match with the table, one he seemed to be losing as his eyelids drooped under the weight of his thoughts. A king at barely twenty without ever seeing a ruler before him – it was no wonder the kid looked anxious about the idea. That would have been the same as throwing me on the throne at his age. I hadn't wanted it then, and I sure as hell didn't want it now.

Dad must have seen the way he stressed the kid out as well because his voice softened. "Do you believe that would work, Nero?"

His chin jerked up at the sound of his name. "Yes, it should be fine as long as I can get the rings."

"What rings?" I asked. "You getting married so soon?"

No one else said a thing as his elbow jammed into my ribs. "There are three main sets of rings in Fortuna," he explained as I wheezed air back into my bruised lungs. "One pair for the king, one for the queen, and one for the king's advisor, who is also the general of The Order."

"As an alternative to a crown?" Vergil asked.

Nero nodded. "They're supposed to be a gift from the Savior, so only the true recipients should be able to wear them. If I can get the rings, I'm sure the people will follow me."

"But Credo already has his set," Lady said. Though I had to think on it, I recalled the gaudy silver bands he wore. Capulet didn't have a crown or anything similar, so the idea sounded like nonsense to me. Then again, everything in Fortuna was nonsense.

"The church let Credo have them early so there wouldn't be a fight over the position later, I think," Nero said. "But I don't know where the other rings are kept. I've never even seen them."

When Dad clicked his tongue, I knew to sit up and take notice. Something had just thrown a wrench into our plans. "So, we need the rings to assure your place," Dad said, "but I doubt the church will give them up so easily, especially if I'm the one on your side. My threats can only go so far if they call my bluff. I do not wish to spill any blood over this, and if your public finds out you had a demon aiding you, that will not be good for your image. The church will be quick to try to sully your name for their own sakes. We must find those rings."

The stairs creaked under another set of feet, and Nero perked up just like the first time Credo showed. "Credo and Kyrie might know where we can find them," he said. The two were caught in some muttered argument, Kyrie pouting about it. When Dad glanced toward them, something seemed to take hold of him. Emotions flashed through his eyes one right after the other, too quick for me to pin down any one until he settled another mask of a smile on his face.

"Nero," he said, turning back to the kid. "I just remembered that I brought your uniform. Would you like to go retrieve it? Agni and Rudra can lead you back to the horses. They really need to change back to more useful forms anyway. And actually, why don't I give you some money? You can take Kyrie with you and go into town for a bit."

Dad didn't know the meaning of subtlety.

Dropping his chin into his palm, Nero breathed a long sigh through his nose. "So you're just trying to get rid of me?"

Dad's smile didn't falter. "Yes. We'll work out our plan while you're gone, and we can catch you up when you return."

Though I waited for the kid to snap and bite as usual, he remained collared, even accepting the bribe Dad handed him. Nero's annoyance amounted to nothing more than that as he stood from his seat. The dogs roused at his movement and hopped up to follow. When Kyrie drew close, Nero went up to her and hooked their arms together. "Come on, the grownups are going to have a talk, and we're not invited," he said. "We're going shopping."

"Oh, boo," she said. "Lady, do you want to come? I don't think Nero knows how to shop."

Lady snorted. "Can the prince function on his own? Sure, if it gets me away from this argue-fest, I'm game."

Credo watched everyone leave as though he'd just been swindled, and judging from the way he looked to us, that was entirely our faults. He remained standing.

"I'm surprised the boy was so accommodating," Vergil said. "I wasn't sure he knew how to follow a request."

"Nero is used to being sent away during meetings," Credo said. "He's rarely allowed to stay for them. I usually serve as his proxy, so would you mind telling me the meaning of this? Is there some reason you're sending him and Kyrie away? If this is some sort of trick-"

"I suppose you don't recognize me," Dad said. "That's fair. It's been quite a long time, and you were very young."

Credo glanced over my father with cold disinterest. "You must be mistaken. We've never met."

Though Dad liked to pretend he could hide his emotions with those fake smiles, the regret that tinged his eyes gave everything away. "No, I remember you quite well. It was the last time I was in Fortuna, actually. Your mother tried to make you introduce yourself to me, but you were quite shy. You stubbornly kept as far from me as possible. I recall saying that I had two sons about the same age who were equally troublesome, but your father insisted that you were well-mannered. He was awfully proud of that. You know, your sister took quite a bit after him, particularly those eyes, and you have your mother's hair. Is that why you cut it off? It was much longer when you were young, Prince R-"

"Enough!" Credo's hands- no, his whole body was trembling. He shook like a thin tree caught in a gale. "You've made your point, but that is not my name nor title. It has not been for years. You will call me Credo, and you are King Sparda, I presume."

I'd known Nero wasn't the true heir. We'd all known that. But someone forgot to mention that there was a true heir at all. Even Vergil was dazed at the news, his mouth hanging open as he searched for something to say. I couldn't find words either, nothing to express all the questions rattling in my head.

Dad was the only one who remained in one piece from the blow. "Does your sister know?"

Now cornered, Credo dragged a chair between us and took a seat. "She does. She has always known. We have long-accepted that we are no longer royalty, but Nero is not aware that we are siblings, and I would prefer to keep it that way." His gaze flicked over us in a warning.

"And Nero doesn't have any idea that you're royalty?" I asked. The answer was obvious, but I wanted to hear him try to justify his reason.

"Nero does not know, and he should not know." Yet Credo didn't bother to hide the ache of sadness from his expression. "I have every aim to see him on the throne."

"And you expect us to believe that the church would just keep a former prince around to look after their fake one?" Vergil asked, his tone more venomous than any bite. "That's nonsense."

Credo's hand went for his sword, and Vergil responded in kind. "Nero is not a fake prince," Credo spat. "He has as much royal blood as your line."

Dad and I both shot out our arms to restrain them from each other. "Slow down," I said. "More importantly, if you and your sister are the rightful heirs, where the hell did the kid even come from?"

"There is much to discuss," Dad added before I could get an answer. "Now is not the time for squabbles. Credo, you should tell us what you can, so we can more readily aid you."

Though his hand remained on his sword's grip, Credo sat back in his seat. "And why should I tell you anything? I didn't ask for your help. You should return to your own affairs. This is Fortunan business."

"Fortuna is our neighbor," Dad said with a fresh smile. "Our loud, troublesome, violent neighbor. All that you do impacts us to some extent, particularly if you start a war. And while you may not like it, Nero has grown to take stock in what we have to say. My sons were the ones to tell him of the poison initially, after all."

Credo winced like he'd been struck.

"And you've already informed us enough of what you don't want him to hear. I hate to use such lowly tactics." He didn't look all that torn up about it. "But I will do what it takes to ensure the little prince is in good hands. Now please, if you would start at the beginning."

Credo looked halfway to chewing through his tongue. I wasn't entirely sure I'd blame the guy if he snapped and tried to kill us. When he did speak, he bit out each word. "I'll suppose it is reasonable for a king to want to avoid a war he couldn't win, but I will tell you no more than what you need to know, and you must swear to me that Nero will not hear a word of it."

Dad kept smiling, knowing he had won this round. "You have my word."

"And mine," Vergil said.

"I won't say anything to him," I conceded against my better judgement, "but are you ever going to tell him the truth?"

"Should I?" Credo asked. A mocking smile curled at his lips. "I know now that it was foolish to lie to him about being demonic, but what good will it do for me to tell him that he's not even of royal blood? I've hurt him enough already. I will not do it again. As far as I am concerned, he is the prince, and that is how it shall remain."

Though I hated to lie to the kid, Credo made a fair point. There was no telling how Nero would react to a blow like that. Maybe the kid would be relieved. He didn't seem thrilled with the idea of getting the throne, but he probably didn't need any more mind-numbing shocks at the moment.

"Start at the beginning, you say," Credo sighed, "as though there is such a simple beginning. I suppose you mean the night my parents were killed because that is the starting point as I know it, when everything changed. That was the same night Kyrie was born. I believe my parents knew of the plot against them because as soon as she began to cry, my father handed her to me and insisted that I hide along with her. Run. Find somewhere safe. As though that were so easy.

"I did know the castle well enough to sneak away, and I was able to hide Kyrie among the many orphans dropped off at the chapel. One of the nursemaids named her, I believe, as my parents were not able to. It's a miracle she survived that place. Many orphans did not, but the chapel would accept any to be raised as servants. It's a dreadful place, honestly. Kyrie deserved better." He shook his head to throw off the tangent. "I couldn't imagine anywhere to hide myself, and I was too young and frightened to try. In the end, I raced back upstairs only to find both my parents cut to ribbons."

He fell silent, his gaze lost somewhere in the memory. After blinking it away, he continued without a waver in his voice. "Sanctus caught me then. His hand clamped down on my shoulder so hard I thought he might snap the bones in two."

"Sanctus?" Dad prompted.

"He has been part of the church hierarchy for as long as I can recall. He is now the true figurehead of the church and as close as we have to an acting leader in Fortuna. Among those who would wish not to see Nero take the throne, he is the most troublesome, though his motivations elude me at times. I believe he thinks he does the right thing, or he is quite the convincing actor."

Credo shrugged, which felt odd to me. That man was clearly the one who had his parents killed. I would have expected more vehemence, more anger, yet Credo's tone remained as empty and worn as before.

"Sanctus's exact words at the time were, 'A tragedy has occurred.' But of course, it was the will of the Savior, and it was all set into motion for a reason to ensure the safety of the 'Divine Prince.' Having seen my mother's child, I knew of no divinity and certainly no prince. If they knew of my involvement with Kyrie, they have never mentioned it. They may believe her dead. I hope that is the case.

"Truthfully, I do not know why they allowed me to live, but I suppose Sanctus saw some use in me. He said the Savior had cleansed me of my royal status and I was now ordained to serve as the protector of the true prince."

"How could they expect you to believe such nonsense?" Vergil demanded. I had to fight back a smile at seeing him so angry on behalf of Credo's childhood self.

"Because I did believe it," Credo said. "Why wouldn't I? Everything the church had ever said before was law, and if the Savior had tasked me with this, who was I to complain? I was eight, and my parents had just died. I would have believed anything."

"And people were just okay with the princes swapping out like that?" I asked. "Wouldn't people have noticed you still wandering around?" I also wanted to know how he could possibly be just a year older than us, but I thought better of asking.

"Much of the staff was removed from service and replaced after that," he said, "but to ensure that I would not be recognized my hair was cut, and my nose was broken and reset. I was also instructed to choose a new name. There's a reason children do not name themselves, but I thought it fitting at the time." As Credo scratched at his cheek, I made a mental note to ask Nero what joke I was missing.

"Once I was in clothing befitting of a commoner, no one looked twice at me. I was just another boy running errands around the castle. After all, the capital held a massive funeral for my parents and myself. I attended it, actually. All of that was forgotten once everyone learned of their new prince. Even without seeing him, the people doted on him. Even now, few have seen his face or even know his name, yet they blindly adore him. It is strange."

"Forgive my curiosity," Dad said, "but did you name him as well?"

Credo's ears tinged an impressive red. "I… Please, do not tell him as much. He has always complained about the name. I was eight. I didn't know what to name an infant. I hardly knew how to hold one, but they handed him to me without much ceremony. I, ah, named him after the color of his blanket."

He shook his head, his voice lowering. "Twice that night, I held an infant, and I could tell even then that Nero was something strange. Honestly, he did look like an angel. Little wisps of white hair around those bright blue eyes. He didn't even cry much. It was so strange, a bit frightening really. I'd always go to check at night to make sure he hadn't stopped breathing because he was so quiet."

"How times change," I said, earning a flicker of a smile from Credo.

"Then you are not aware where he comes from?" Dad asked.

"I have no idea. Only a select few at the castle would know, as most of the old clergy heads have died since then. But I feel if anyone would know, it would be..." Perhaps Credo didn't hate my family as much as I thought because the sheer loathing that filled his eyes was leagues beyond the quiet rage I'd seen before.

Dad nudged him along with a gentle, "Would be…?"

"Agnus," Credo spat. "He's one of those public secrets, an alchemist employed by the church. He's the one who made Nero's medicine and instructed me to give it to him daily. I was warned that missing a day would have dire consequences, yet he refused to tell me what the medicine was for."

Dad leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. "But that was after the schedule changed, yes?"

Though Vergil answered my look of confusion with his own, Credo's brows shot up in recognition. "Where did you hear that?" he asked.

"Nero mentioned it when I asked about his arm manifesting. He said the schedule changed, and he started taking the medicine."

Dad might as well have said that Nero fell down dead for the sheer panic that iced over Credo's eyes. "Is that all he said? Did he remember anything else?"

Dad's brow furrowed. "He seemed to have trouble recalling. Dazed, almost. What happened?"

Despite his sigh of relief, Credo's expression twisted with pain. "I've explained enough, haven't I? I would prefer not to dredge up old demons."

"I am already here," Dad said without missing a beat. Disowning myself was tempting. "I do not revel in your pain, but if this has to do with Nero's demonic blood, it is in his best interest for you to tell us."

"You understand that I'm just handing over information that could devastate not only Nero but all of Fortuna," Credo said, too weary to sound commanding. "This is treasonous."

"I think we crossed the treason line somewhere way back there," I said, cocking a thumb over my shoulder.

Dad threw me a glance as an invitation to shut up. "I have no desire to ruin or rule Fortuna," he said. "Nero being on the throne is beneficial to Capulet, but if I am entirely honest, I simply wish for the prince's well-being. He is not one of mine, but he is alike enough that I will look after him as such. If you tell us what you know, we will offer information in kind."

Whatever rest Credo had gotten overnight was gone, replaced exhaustion that looked close to overwhelming him at any moment. "Just swear to me one more time that you will not tell him any of this. I don't ask out of selfish fear or guilt. I ask for his sake. Do not let him remember."

Swearing my agreement to those vague terms felt like making a contract with a devil. And the more Credo explained, the more I felt certain that was what I'd done. Fortuna Castle must have been Hell. I wanted no part in letting Nero return there, not even as a ruler. When Credo lapsed into silence, I told them to make whatever plan they desired and stood from the table. I doubted they would have accepted any of my suggestions anyhow. They never did, and I needed to get out of there. Needed to cool my head. No one said a word to stop me.

I thought I was wandering aimlessly through the dust-paved streets, but some part of me must have sought the kid out, as I came across him leaning against the outside of a rickety shop. Agni and Rudra stood in human form once again on each side of him. They watched like hawks for anything that might try to bother Nero, which seemed to include the birds and leaves.

"Are you done?" Nero asked me as I approached. "I don't think the girls ever will be. They've been chatting up shopkeepers for ages. This town is pretty sad. I don't know what you'd want to buy here. I'm starting to think they just like to leave me outside."

For all the words swirling in my head, I couldn't bring myself to say anything. My hand latched onto his arm, and I tugged us into the shadow between the ramshackle buildings despite his barks of protest. He fell silent once I pulled him to my chest, my arms so tight around his thin frame that his breaths became sharp.

"The hell are you doing?" he asked.

"Sorry," was all I could find to say. "I'm sorry, Nero."

When he let the tension slip from his shoulders and let his weight fall against me, I wondered why I felt worse instead of better. Like a knife had slipped between my ribs and into the center of my chest. "What did you do this time?" he murmured in a voice so thin that the breeze could have carried it away. The kid must have been exhausted.

My favorite idiots Agni and Rudra both attempted to put their arms around Nero as well. "Are we guarding him like this now?" Agni asked.

"Yes, I think we are helping," Rudra said.

Nero breathed a laugh, keeping me from getting onto them. "Yeah, boys, you're doing great," he said.

I hoped whatever plan those three came up with, it didn't ask too much of the kid. Not that Nero needed to know that. He would whine about me babying him. He could handle himself. Of course he could. The kid was as strong as any of us and more stubborn than a bull, but everyone had a breaking point, and I feared all of us were chipping away at him little by little.

I wasn't sure how much of him would be left at the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crush the sad away.


	11. Parents' Strife

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lays on the floor and ughs. This chapter was a time. Please just take it so I can stop looking at it.

People filed into the narrow bridge walkway like sand through the eye of an hourglass. They pulled carts or livestock from the dusty paths that made up the border town to the pristine white stone that marked Fortuna's capital. The same stone made up the surrounding walls that cast a shadow over us as Nero and I trudged along with the rest of the pack. Through the drone of the people, I could hear water rushing below our feet. Too wide and turbulent to cross by swimming or boat, the river was a large reason why Fortuna had been able to prosper without interference from demons. It coiled around the city's north side, keeping us from any quick means of sneaking in. We had to enter through a gate checkpoint like anyone else.

Though we pulled our horses along behind us so as not to sick out in the crowd, Nero couldn't have looked more suspicious if he'd tried. He stuck so close to his horse that his cheek almost touched hers. With his attempts to hide his anxiety behind pinched anger, he'd practically written "pay attention to us" across his face.

"Let me do all the talking," I said. If we were going to be found out, it would not be my doing.

He must have understood because his grumbling did not turn into an audible argument. Perhaps he was starting to learn better.

Logically, if any of our groups had a chance of success, it was ours. No one had seen the prince's face, after all, and no one would know mine. Kyrie had taken his sword, wrapped it in cloth so that it couldn't be recognized. Yamato was small enough to not be an issue. As for Dante and Father's swords, well, that was no longer my problem.

We'd split up in an attempt to divert attention from ourselves. Father, being the most troublesome, was given Kyrie as a partner. Credo swore by her ability to smooth over a difficult situation, but she'd never had to deal with Father before. Our least suspicious member paired with our most. If there were a Savior, she would need all the help she could get from it.

From there, the groups were decided based on Credo's insistence on keeping my family separated and keeping Dante away from Nero. Likely a good choice, though that left him stuck with Dante. If those two didn't kill each other or raise an alarm before getting into the city, it would be a miracle. To divert attention away from Credo's possibly-recognizable face and Dante's troublesome nature, Lady ended up with them as well. Her reaction to this decision had been a snarl of, "ugh."

That left me with Nero, not that Credo looked thrilled with the outcome. I suppose Credo found me to be less trouble than my brother, and considering my other options, I couldn't complain.

Credo had marked a meeting point for all of us should our game of chance pay off. As yet another precaution, Dante's group had circled to the eastern gate, Father to the western. Nero and I were to enter the north gate unless his fidgeting drew too much attention from the guards.

"If you can't be bothered to act natural, talk to me so you don't give us away immediately," I said to pull his glare from his cast and back to me. The armor had been too obvious, so Credo had wrapped Nero's arm in a sling that the boy treated like a snake strangling his limb.

"You just said not to talk."

"To the guards. You may talk to me."

"Talk to you about what?"

"I don't care, but you need to stop looking like you have something to hide, or the guards will believe it."

His shoulders bunched up near his ears, making those damned dogs rush up from his heels to his toes as they tried to investigate the change in his demeanor. Before one could tumble under nearing hooves, Nero nudged it out of the way with his foot.

Father should have taken his pets with him. Why the burrs had latched onto us, I did not know nor care. At least as dogs they could not talk. Convincing them not to stay in human form took several minutes of demands from Father, one request from Nero, and a flurry of questions from Credo. As always, we'd taken ages to set out.

"If we have to talk, tell me what the plan is," Nero said.

Not a twinge of surprise or irritation hit me. He'd asked after it several times already, and just as before, I gave the same answer as Credo and Father. "We'll explain it once we're set in the capital. Find something else to talk about."

Gritting his teeth, he spoke through a growl. "I thought you didn't care."

 _I_  did not care, but I'd been sworn to secrecy. He was allowed to know how we were to get into the city and nothing beyond that.

Once he was done grinding his jaw, Nero gestured to the dogs with a nod. "What's up with the shapeshifting? Can all demons do that?"

"As a general rule, only powerful demons have such an ability. The more power, the more convincing the transformation. They usually take human forms, but even the most powerful demons are limited in some respects. Hiding demonic power entirely is near-impossible, and only doppelgangers can make a perfect mirror of a person. Admittedly, I am not well-versed on this topic. Father would be able to provide you with more information."

"Then even with our demon blood, we can't…"

I allowed myself to crack a slight smile. "Ah, is that what you're really wondering then? Our human blood limits us to a given human form, though our demonic forms are somewhat malleable depending on some factors. I cannot say as much for you, considering your diluted blood."

With a huff of breath, he blew his bangs out of his eyes. "Wow, thanks. You're just half-demon, aren't you?"

"Yes," I said with a bite of hesitation. Judging by the queries in his eyes, he was becoming too comfortable with digging at me for information. The next question could only be...

"Then your mom was a human? And she-" He bit his tongue as he searched for the right wording. "-got with your demon father?"

As we'd neared the gate checkpoint, we became entangled in a clot of the people all trying to file in. As long as no one cared to eavesdrop, I had no reason not to answer his curiosities. I was trapped.

"They were married. Though she was human, my mother was quite strong in her own right. My father can be too amicable for a king, but my mother did well to keep him in line."

Nero's eyes were wide, caught between awe and horror as he nodded. "She must have been strong to birth two kids at once."

If I were to let him say a word to the guards or anyone else, they'd realize within a second that he'd never been outside before. No one but the boy could trap me between a laugh and a sigh. "That's not… Actually, let's not talk about this either." Explaining about demonic ability in public was one thing, but I would not teach biology in a crowd.

Nero was so troubled by his own thoughts that he paid me no mind. "How do you marry a demon?" he continued muttering. "How do you marry Sparda?"

I'd wondered the same thing for years, so I had no answers for him. "Be quiet now," I said instead. "We're almost at the checkpoint."

Perhaps the guards had been warned to keep an eye out because they were terribly nosy. Every little detail needed an explanation. I answered each question with a polite lie, saying how we were mercenaries looking for work. "I hear the capital has some impressive guilds," I added.

One of the two guards asked about Nero's horse, a detail we'd overlooked. "That's an impressive mare. Never seen a mercenary with one like it."

Panic flashed in Nero's eyes as an easy excuse rolled off my tongue about how he won it in a race, but that too brought the guards' suspicion.

"Your brother's awful quiet," one said, not that I'd never claimed Nero as a relative.

"Is he dumb?" the other offered. Though the man's voice was light with curiosity rather than accusation, Nero drew in a sharp breath. Before he could say anything stupid in his offense, I dropped a hand to the top of his head to stop him. I hoped the action looked affectionate despite me trying to make him bite his tongue.

"He is," I said, "but he has skill at fighting."

Though rage flashed from the boy like sparks from a smithed sword, the curious guard took no notice, breaking into a grin as he spoke of in adoration of his mute sister. Even after the guards let us through with a wish of good luck, Nero seethed. He couldn't do much else until we were out of earshot of the guards, which I shouldn't have found so amusing. When he belatedly turned and snapped at me, I struggled to hold back a smile.

"Dumb? Really?"

"It made for a convenient excuse, and that one guard was quite a fan of you."

His eyes narrowed. "Did you know that about his sister?"

"No, just a coincidence. I don't read minds."

That only made him lean closer, staring into my eyes with such focus that he was lucky he didn't run headfirst into a wall.

"Really," I said, "I can't read your mind or anyone else's. If I had to guess, though, I'd say you're thinking about food."

Cheeks tinged with a blush, he shot upright. Seemed my guess was on the mark. "We can eat when everyone else arrives," I offered, feeling certain we would have much time to kill before then. I hoped the boy didn't expect me to entertain him in the interim.

As we traced the streets toward the point Credo had described, Nero became engrossed in the dingy town of shacks. He remained far more interested in the barefoot children running around than the brilliant spires of his castle ahead. As though he sensed me watching him, he spoke. "I've never been to this part of the capital. Didn't know there was an area inside the walls that was so… dreary."

"Every city has a slum," I said.

He gave a hum in response that I couldn't decipher, and we walked in silence until the shouts of the marketplace began to ring in the air. The rows of worn wooden houses became stable shops and carts coated in goods. Spices burned my nose, made worse with the reek of raw fish. I seemed to be the only one among the hundreds milling about who cared. For some ungodly reason the place made Nero perk up, his eyes bright as he pressed up to his toes and scanned the area. "Should we be concerned about the guards?" he asked

"In this crowd? We're nothing of note."

That must have been what had Nero so intrigued - so many people, and not one of them looking at him like a god. I couldn't blame him for finding enjoyment in being the one staring for once. Attention could be exhausting.

"I believe I see the place we'll be lodging tonight," I said, not that he paid me any mind. "I will set up the rooms and put our horses in the stables if you'd like to remain out here for the time being in case the others arrive."

His eyes remained on the crowd as he handed the reins to me. "Sure. Watch Blue, though. She likes to bite."

Though I hadn't seen the mare nip at him, the damned thing tried to take my ear off four times before I could shove her reins into the hands of a startled stable boy. The inn connected to the stables was a proper inn this time, not some rotting tavern with a few extra rooms. The owner showed no surprise or interest in all the beds I requested, nor did he bat an eye when I slid him two gleaming gold coins. Father had not been subtle with the funds he brought, but Father was never subtle about anything.

Neither of the other groups had appeared by the time I returned to the square. Fine by me. The less time Dante and Father spent in a crowd, the better. But it seemed Nero had found himself a different companion, another one he didn't want judging from his forced smile. She must have been young, small in stature and wearing a dress with all the frills of a daffodil. A matching mask obscured much of her face, making her appear like a porcelain doll. One of the false dogs kicked in a desperate bid to be free from her arms. The other hid behind Nero's legs. Not much for guarding if a child could overpower them.

"Is she taking that one off our hands?" I asked as I neared them. Something odd tugged at Nero's expression when he glanced at me, something I couldn't place.

"Oh, my father would never let me," the girl huffed as she crushed the dog in affection. "But he is cute."

"She was just telling me about the festival," Nero said as though exhausted. His starry-eyed intrigue had vanished while I was gone.

"A festival?" I echoed. That did explain the mask. "Then is this more of a clamor than normal?"

The girl wagged her finger at us. "How did you not know? Everyone's been getting ready since we heard the prince was coming back. There's so much to prepare. We have to put on a nice festival to welcome him home."

Whoever ran Fortuna was a sadistic sort. Her explanation was enough for me to piece together the cocktail of anxieties playing on Nero's face. Nothing was going as it should have, not for him, and not for those who had plotted his death. This trip was turning out to be far more interesting than I could have predicted.

"I suppose you're quite happy to know he's safe," I said.

The girl's mask bounced as she nodded. "Yeah, but my father said we should have slaughtered those Capulet heathens for what they did."

A weak laugh bubbled from Nero. "Those are some big words for a girl your age. Is the prince really worth killing an entire country over?"

"Of course he is!"

Nero winced.

"The prince is a gift from our Savior, and he's real strong and great. The Capulet people don't deserve to live anyway. They're rotten heathens."

The speech sounded practiced like arithmetic tables, something that had been drilled into her head. Under the hand he'd slapped across his mouth, Nero murmured some form of a rebuttal about how the Savior wasn't supposed to love murder. I spoke over him.

"Is it strange to you that you've never seen the prince's face?"

"No," the girl said, her head listing to the side. "Everyone wears masks at the festivals, but I heard someone say that maybe you can't look in his eyes because his powers can kill you."

Genuine amusement brought a shine to Nero's eyes. "Neat," he said.

"Is it strange that you only see him at festivals?" I asked.

"No. He's busy."

"Doing what?"

"I dunno. Prince stuff. Fighting demons." She rocked back on her heels. "If you don't know anything, you should go talk to the church men about this stuff. I gotta go." Dropping the dog to the ground, she smacked a few pats to its head. Her farewell seemed focused more on the dogs than us.

"Your people are quite fond of you," I told Nero as she dashed away, but his lip curled toward a scowl.

"They're fond of an idea of me, a wrong one. They don't even know my name."

After she vanished into the crowd, we took to loitering by a fence away from the bustle of the square. The dogs slept against Nero's feet, despite Father's insistence that they would make excellent lookouts.

Against all reason, I found myself breaking our silence, unable to extract his words from my head. "It bothers you then? The way they see you?"

"Of course, but I guess I'll have to keep it up even after I get the crown." With a sigh, he rubbed his hand across his forehead. "I don't know how I'm going to fake being divine, but I've kept it up this long. Pulling the rug out from under the people now would be chaos, I'm sure."

Though the sun burned directly overhead, he looked so exhausted that midnight might as well have fallen over us. He would be ill-fit for a king. In all fairness, anyone in his position would have been. I could not fault him for being raised as a blind sheep. He wasn't even meant to be king.

"Our rooms are open to us," I said. "Go sleep if you're tired."

"I'm not tired." He shook the exhaustion from his face to punctuate his lie. "It's just bright. I'm going to get a sunburn if they don't show up soon. Do you burn too?"

While the rambling was an obvious means of distraction, I saw no reason not to humor him. "Terribly," I said.

"Most demons can handle the fires of hell, but I can't be in the sun for more than an hour." He huffed like an enraged bull. "Then I shed my skin like a snake or something."

"You do have scales, so it's fitting."

Nero didn't care for my attempt at humor. His eyes dulled, and his voice flattened. "You're supposed to be the one who doesn't make jokes."

"I've been stuck with my family my entire life. They're bound to rub off on me whether I like it or not." Yet another thing I hoped Nero wouldn't go off and repeat.

Silence fell between us again as he chewed on a thought. That was never a good sign. When Nero considered something, trouble followed. Before I could speak to tear his thoughts off course, he pinned me with a curious stare. "What about your mom?"

"What about her?" I'd already said all that I wanted to on the subject. Tact was not the boy's strong suit.

"Well, you just said your family had always been with you, but you talked about her in past tense, and I never heard anyone else mention a queen."

Though I watched the movement in the square, I didn't see any of it. "It should be obvious then. What more do you need to know?"

"Would it be rude to ask what happened to her?"

"Yes, but you already have now." Though I'd replayed the scenes thousands of times behind my eyelids, I'd never recounted what happened to anyone. That didn't mean I wanted to start now, especially not with the boy of all people. "Why are you so interested?"

"My mother was killed," he offered in what I could only guess was some curious attempt at empathy. But rather than upset, he seemed troubled by the thought of her loss, as though he couldn't grasp the meaning. "I never really knew her."

I had no doubts that his mother, whatever form she had existed in, was long dead, but she was not the woman he imagined. The boy had never really lost his parents because he'd never had them in the first place. Perhaps that was easier.

He didn't need to know anything. I could have refused, ended the conversation and any more that might arise. I did not owe him such answers. We would be on opposing sides in due time, so why I lowered my voice and began recounting the worst night of my life to him, I couldn't fathom. Perhaps some part of me had always wanted it out in the open.

Father was gone, handling a demon infestation in a nearby settlement. I didn't have to ask why he wasn't at breakfast when I woke that morning. That was always the reason. I did ask Mother why he bothered fighting off the demons for people who couldn't help themselves. The demons would only come back.

With a smile, she squashed my cheeks between her palms. "Those are our people," she said. "Yours too. They can't learn to defend themselves without time and aid. We must give them that, or we'll have no people to rule. Land doesn't make a kingdom. The people do. Do you understand, Vergil?"

As I nodded against her hands, Dante yelled from across the room. "Yeah, and we gotta kill the demons because we gotta, but I'll do that for you."

Mother always gave the same sort of response to that, stalking over to him and pushing his nose back down into his book. "You don't get to do anything until you start focusing on your lessons."

Perhaps that wasn't exactly what happened that morning. I could no longer recall much beyond flashes of moments. Fragments of other days filled in the rest. But that night… I remembered every instant of that night.

The smell was the worst. The sulfuric heat from the demons left the air heavy and humid with the gore from all their victims. That was what true fear smelled like: sweat, fire, and blood.

"Don't look back!" Mother yelled as she dragged us in a chain through bloodsoaked halls. "Keep your eyes forward. Keep running." Despite her words, my wide eyes locked on every passing sight until Dante yanked on my arm hard enough to tear my attention away.

"Forward," he said, not looking at me. Though he tried to sound as commanding as Mother, the waver in his voice matched his trembling hand. I tried to listen, pinning my gaze to his back, but that couldn't block my peripherals, couldn't block the smell.

Castles were built to block out invaders, but few entrances meant few exits. The demons had us cornered, climbing higher and higher to avoid them. "Boys," Mother said through gasps for air, "you two need to go up the tower and lock the door. Put something in front of it if you can, and then be as quiet as possible. Okay?"

Even then, I knew that was wrong. I knew we shouldn't listen, shouldn't separate. I told her we needed to stay together. I told her.

I tried.

"You have to listen to me, Vergil." She wore the slightest smile, but her eyes burned. "Go with your brother and hide."

"No, we have to go together. We have to!"

"Dante, take him and go. Hurry."

With a glance from me to her, Dante nodded, tightened his grip on my arm, and pulled me away. For the first and only time in his life, he listened. Damn him. I fought every step until he practically dragged me up the spiral tower staircase. "Forward," he whispered, his voice cracking, but I watched behind us long after Mother vanished from sight.

I kept looking back until Dante gasped. Even then, I heard the demon before I saw it. Its claws scraped across the stones overhead. The sound seemed to scratch at my bones as well. "Vergil!" Dante trilled. I'd never heard him sound scared before. My brother did not show fear.

His back slammed into my chest, throwing me down three steps before I could catch my fall. Trying to grab the wall had left a painted red streak along the stone. I couldn't feel any pain in my palm, though, not when Dante's breath rattled against my ear. Not when the demon screeched above us.

I lost the next few moments. The more I tried to remember, the more it seemed to slip away. All I could recall was mind-numbing panic and how heavy Dante felt. Through some miracle, I guess I managed to get us past the demon. Or perhaps Dante did that as well. He was the one to shove me into the tower room and shoulder the door closed behind us. His legs gave out at the effort.

My whole body was shaking. I couldn't stand, but the sight of the gash across his chest had me scrambling on all fours over to him. His blood fell in clots like snow to plop against the stone. Useless as I was, could only stare at the wound and whimper in hysterics. "You're bleeding. You're bleeding. You're hurt. We have to do something."

"Hold the door," he hissed through his teeth. "M'okay."

He wasn't. He was pale as death, sweat coating his face. But when the snarling demon rammed the door, I threw myself against it in turn to keep it out. If only we had weapons, I kept thinking. If only we'd gone to Father's office and taken his swords. We could have fought.

Mother would have been alright. Dante would have been alright. I would have protected them.

It was a quaint thought for a child, but I couldn't stand. I couldn't even pull myself from the door to help my weakening brother as his eyelids drooped, and his body fell slack as though he were dozing off against the door. No matter how I called and begged, he wouldn't respond. Even the demon's agonized screams didn't rouse him. The rattling stopped, but we both remained frozen in place.

Mother's muffled call through the door broke the silence. "Boys?"

"Mom?" Dante rasped. His chin pulled up a fraction. At least something got through to him, enough to assure me he wasn't dead yet.

"Come on, we have to get the door open," I told him. "We have to let her in."

"No," her voice cut in like lightning. "You two stay in there. Keep each other safe."

"But Dante's hurt! He's bleeding!" And he wouldn't move. I couldn't pry the door open with him in the way. His eyes showed enough light for coherence, yet he remained.

"Then put pressure on the wound like I taught you," Mother said. "Do you remember that?"

"Yeah."

The unmistakable sound of a sword dragging along stone sang through the air. "No matter what, you two stay put. Behave. I love you both."

I would never know why Dante didn't let her in because I would not ask him. Perhaps incoherence or exhaustion. Whatever the reason, it wasn't good enough. As I would never forgive Father for leaving us to that horrible night, I could never bring myself to forgive Dante for being so damn complacent. I knew it was cruel to still blame an eight-year-old for something he could hardly fathom at the time, but even all these years later, when the world around me fell too silent, I could hear the sound of Mother being torn to pieces from behind that door.

I still felt the rage and grief that seeped through me, the way my entire body seemed to burn with something I could not fathom or contain.

Before I could crush the memories back down to silence, the boy tore me away with his left hand crushed around my right. I couldn't read his intent, his expression drawn to a tight frown as he faced straight ahead. The gesture could have been for his own comfort or mine, not that it was good for either. He would have broken the bones of anyone else with his white-knuckle grip. It seemed I'd said too much, whatever I'd said. I could no longer recall exactly.

"But that was a long time ago," I said in finality.

"It didn't sound like it." His voice held no accusation, and I still could not place whatever emotions he held behind his steeled gaze.

I couldn't find it within myself to argue, so I did the only other thing I could do. I pushed the focus to him.

"Nero, if you had an experience that was nothing but agony, a memory of nothing but pain, would you wish to forget it?"

He must have thought that I was still referring to myself. His mask fell away to reveal curious, distant eyes. The more he considered it, the more his brow became troubled. "I'm not sure," he said at length. "Would you?"

Seemed he'd mastered the same diversion tactic as well. "I would not. I have learned far more from bad experiences than from good. They are a necessary evil." Forgetting would simplify much, but I could not degrade my Mother's memory by erasing her last moments.

Nero nodded. "Then I guess I wouldn't want to forget if the memories were important."

I chewed the inside of my cheek to stop myself from asking a damning question of what should happen to memories already forgotten. I'd sworn secrecy on that matter. More importantly, the boy still held onto my hand like some lost toddler.

Twisting my hand in his, I took his fingers in a strangling grip and pulled them up between us. That brought his gaze back to me for the first time, and he looked at our hands as though he'd forgotten they existed. As he tried to tear himself free, I tightened my grip.

"If you become king," I said, "you and I will be in opposing positions of power. You must not forget that. Even if we are allies, you cannot feign friendship with myself or my family. That would be a dangerous game. Keep this in mind for any ally. Remain at a distance."

At that, I allowed him to free himself from my grasp. Shoving his hand down to his side, he muttered an agreement. "Not like I want to be friends with your damn family," he added with a swell of venom. "Fortuna needs nothing from Capulet."

"And Capulet wants nothing from Fortuna."

We could both argue such platitudes all we wished. Nothing was that simple. In the silence that followed, that reality weighed over both of us. I could hear it in his sigh as he finally looked to his castle.

I hated how well I understood him in that moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise the next chapter isn't about tragic pasts.


	12. What Here Shall Miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time to follow up those tragic past chapters with
> 
> jokessss.
> 
> Finger guns.

Neither Vergil or Nero had any gaping wounds, and Vergil didn't even have his sword drawn. Overall, I could say the first part of the mission had been a rousing success. The two of them sitting beside each other with scowls written across their faces was the best outcome I could have hoped for. If Dante's group arrived at all, it would have to come from some divine act. God didn't usually do me any favors, so I didn't expect to see them anytime soon. Perhaps later. In the dungeons.

"You two look like you're having fun," I said to the boys as Kyrie and I neared them. Nero gave a huff, Vergil a disapproving frown.

"How did you fare getting through the gate, Father?" Though the question seemed polite, his tone dripped with irritation. I had a feeling the anger didn't stem from my involvement for once. The boys had upset each other in my absence, yet I would face the brunt of it. Replace Nero with Dante, and it could have been a standard day back home.

"We had no issues," I said.

"Yeah, the guards seemed kind of scared of Mr. Sparda," Kyrie added. "It was strange."

"Father, behave," Vergil drawled.

I answered him with a smile. A little demonic pressure never hurt anyone. The whole process had been so slow, and we had somewhere to be. Besides, I didn't want the guards getting nosy about the two large swords we had hidden under swaths of cloth.

Uninterested in the staring match between me and my son, Kyrie pushed up to her toes and scanned the market square. "Is there some sort of festival going on? The mask salesmen are out, and there are so many people."

Ducking his head, Nero murmured, "They're celebrating my return."

"After they tried to kill you?" Kyrie trailed to a sigh, her brows knitted. "Then they must have been planning to announce your death during the festival.

"That's quite cruel," I said.

She shrugged as though it were a banal fact of life. "They did the same when the former king and queen were killed. Put on a festival for the people to cheer them up only to devastate them in the middle."

"How else to summon such powerful righteous anger?" I said. "And how convenient for the people of Dumary Island to become the scapegoats, considering the mining resources there. I hear Fortuna's wealthy have gotten quite comfortable there."

Hand slapped across his face, Nero hissed a breath. "I hadn't thought about that. Damn, we've had that island taken over for so long that giving it autonomy again would start a riot, but I really ought to give those people their land back."

"Just ensure that a stable system is in place first," Vergil said. "Leaving a power vacuum would be far more dangerous to the people of that island."

"And I'm sure the people of Fortuna would understand as long as the order comes from their divine prince," I added, hoping to ease his stress, but he winced as though I'd struck him. No more mentioning divinity, I decided.

Kyrie must have noticed his discomfort as well because she was quick to change the subject. "I hope the others make it through the gate alright. Maybe we should have taken their weapons too."

Nero sighed, bent down and scooped up a snoozing dog - Rudra, I believed. "They may need those in case things go south," he said. "Credo's got his work cut out for him."

"I'm certain they'll be fine." Truthfully, it would have been easier for Dante's group to be captured. The fewer people we needed to sneak into the castle, the better, and breaking them from the dungeons wouldn't have been an issue.

But I would have preferred Dante kill the guards before he let them capture him. From everything Credo had said, Fortuna's version of a dungeon was a sadistic hellscape. I didn't want either of my children near it. At least, not any longer than they needed to be.

As I reached out to ruffle a hand between Rudra's ears, the dog blinked away sleep. They were supposed to be guarding, not napping. If I couldn't trust them to stay awake in the middle of the day, the night would be an issue.

"I just wish they'd hurry up and get here," Nero grumbled, making Rudra's ears perk up toward him. "I'm hungry."

"And you need a bath," Kyrie said, her nose wrinkled.

Nero tried to defend himself, but that led to Vergil and me being dragged in as well. "You all need baths," she said. "And clean clothes. You've been sleeping outside for days. It shows."

"We don't have anything to change into," Nero said.

"No excuses!"

Though not in time to save all of us from giving in and promising Kyrie that we would bathe, the last of our group did arrive in one piece. God was feeling humorous today.

Lady was as tense as her crossbow when loaded, and Credo curled his hands into and out of fists in time with his slow, harsh breaths. Dante wore his usual smile. "Sorry for the wait," he said.

Perhaps I should have let it slide because Vergil was looking away from the new arrivals with a forced lack of interest, and Nero had a sudden fascination with the dog in his arms. "Did something happen?" I asked anyway.

The murderous intent in Lady's eyes narrowed in on me. "Let's not talk about it so I don't kill your son. Now, where are we putting the horses?"

"This way." Credo trudged off, the rest of us falling in line behind him. Vergil called that he'd already taken care of our accommodations, while Nero quietly asked Dante what he did.

Dante's response was equally hushed. "You think I did something? Well, yeah, I might have messed up the whole 'low profile' thing. Took a lot of smoothing over. I'm lucky Lady didn't tear out anything vital… or non-vital."

"You would have deserved it, dumbass."

"Hey, you're supposed to be the one who's nice to me."

"Since when!?"

I had to bite my lip to hold back a laugh as their whispers grew to breathed yells. Yes, keeping a low profile was not a skill for either of them. At least they were getting along well enough.

The inn was so nice that the beds weren't made of straw, and ornate oil lamps dotted the tables. So nice that the owners insisted my dogs stay outside, much to Agni and Rudra's dismay. The two plopped down like puddles of fur on either side of the door, sulking.

On Kyrie's request, the owners drew baths for just about all of us. Once again, Nero pointed out that we would have nothing to wear until our clothes were finished drying. "Give me ten minutes," she said. "I'll take care of it."

In less than ten minutes, she dipped out and reappeared with an armful of modest white dresses. "They're what we wear at the church," she said. "I swiped a few of the extras. They won't miss them for a few hours."

I'd never seen Lady's eyes shine with glee before. "You're a blessing," she told Kyrie. "I never knew I needed this until now."

"Hey, I'm sure I'll look great in that," Dante said. "Not sure I'll fit, but I'll look great."

Despite looking like he wanted to toss the garment in a fire, Vergil muttered his thanks and folded it over his arm. While I knew there to be nonsense societal rules for clothing, I never much understood the difference between a dress and a robe, so I had no issues taking it from her. Whether uncaring or unknowing, Nero had no response to being handed a dress either.

The rooms that held the tubs were split between men and women and not beyond that. Though I didn't see the issue, Nero gave a short yell at the sight of the wooden tubs lined up, a couple paces between each.

"What's the matter, kid?" Dante asked, already tossing his clothes to the floor.

Though Nero didn't answer, the blush burning up to his ears said enough. His feet shuffled back toward the door while he kept his face down.

"You needn't be so modest," I said. "Communal bathing is healthy and normal. Great for bonding."

"You're not helping, Father."

"I'll bathe after you," Nero mumbled, squeezing through the door.

"But the water will be cold."

Whether he didn't hear me or didn't care, Nero wrenched the door shut as Dante barked a laugh. "Bet that kid's never seen anyone naked in his life."

I couldn't imagine that being true, so I asked Credo after we'd handed the baths off to Nero. Credo's eyes grew dim at the question. "Why are you asking me that?"

"Well, has he?" Dante pressed.

Credo's sigh was confirmation enough. When Dante burst into laughter, Credo was quick to bite out a proper answer. "I hadn't really thought about it, but of course he hasn't. He was raised in isolation, after all. Not that it should matter. Please do not harass him about it. You're all standing around in dresses, so you hardly have room to make fun of him."

"Hey, I think I pull this off pretty well," Dante said. I suppose we looked as fine as anyone could in the plain dresses, though the seams were being pushed to their limits, clearly built for slender young women and not broad-shouldered men. Vergil must have paid the innkeepers well because they said nothing of our attire despite concerned stares. After serving us the meal we requested, they ducked away in silence.

As Dante kicked his feet up into a chair and started shoveling food in his mouth with none of the manners I tried to teach him, Nero appeared with a tear up the hem of his dress from ankle to knee. He'd replaced the sling around his demonic arm on his own, and though it marred the image somewhat, he fit the form of his dress better than we ever could. Dante gave a wolf whistle, which Lady cut off with a rap of her knuckles against the top of his head.

"Nero, how did you tear it already?" Kyrie demanded.

"It's hard to walk in otherwise."

"You did it on purpose!?"

If Nero felt any remorse, he didn't show it. The only thing that saved him from Kyrie's wrath was Dante's garbled shout of, "Wha's this? Fuckin' good," as he spoke around his fork.

Peering past Kyrie, Nero's eyes lit up at the sight of the bowl in Dante's hands. "Pasta?"

"You requested," Credo said with a flicker of a smile.

Between the bread and the pasta, it seemed Nero subsisted entirely on grains. Dante was enraptured with the meal as well, asking after every ingredient and demanding to know why we didn't serve it back home.

"Vegetables and herbs grow well in Fortuna's southern climates," I said. "Perhaps if we can become allies, we can make some proper trade deals for tomatoes and the like."

With his fork still held between his teeth, Dante took Nero's human hand in both of his own. Dante's eyes held firm desperation as Nero tried to tug his hand free so he could go back to eating.

"Kid, you have to make sure the first thing you do as king is open Fortuna to trade with Capulet."

"I'm not prioritizing your eating habits." Nero struggled to free himself from Dante's grip. His heels dug into the floor as he tugged his arm back.

"It's important. You have to."

"Go die!"

"Dante," Vergil cut in, "don't go flaring the boy's temper. You of all people should know better."

When Dante's hands shot up in surrender, Nero was not prepared for the sudden freedom. All the force the little prince had put into pulling away sent him crashing into Credo, who sat at his other side.

Though Credo's chair wobbled onto two legs for a moment, he was able to push Nero back into his own chair. "What's this about his temper?" he asked while glaring daggers at Dante. "Nero, did you get into a fight?"

"Shit, we didn't tell him," Dante muttered. Nero spat an impressive number of curses for someone who was too shy to see a man naked.

If they kept acting like his temperament was a major issue - and to be honest, it was - I feared Nero might start seeing the poison as a viable option again. The way he'd told me about it made me suspect he already did. Rather than angry that he'd been harmed for so long, he'd been resigned, accepting. I could not allow that, not only because the poison would no longer have an effect but because I would not let Nero harm himself further.

"He has some trouble controlling his demonic power right now," I said in hopes of easing Credo and Nero's anxieties. "It can overwhelm him when his emotions are heightened. That is normal for his age, and we can assist in teaching him to master his abilities."

Dante and Vergil looked at me as though I'd made a foolishly apparent bluff in a card game. They were all too aware of my half-truths. Though Nero did breathe a sigh of relief, Credo's worry did not ease. "Then you're saying he's lost control of it before? That was… a concern, that it might overwhelm him entirely."

Someone must have told him that, that alchemist who made the poison perhaps. If I were honest, Credo's worries were not unfounded. I didn't know enough about Nero's origins to say for certain that his demon side wouldn't overtake his human side. Something about his makeup was decidedly… off. For having so little demonic blood that I could sense, he had such raw, untapped power, not to mention that arm. That wasn't going to stop me from saying that things would work out, though. I would not give up on the little prince so easily.

"Do not fret. My sons have much more demonic blood than Nero, and they turned out fine."

"Debatable," Lady said.

Credo's brow remained pinched, but before he could voice his concerns again, Nero rushed into the conversation so quickly that his words seemed to stumble. "Weren't you going to tell me about this plan now? I'm sitting here in one of Kyrie's dresses, and you're talking about me like I'm not here. Throw me a bone."

Dante took the opportunity to stretch his arm out and drape it across the back of Nero's chair. "Aw, kid, how could we ignore you when you're looking damn fine in that outfit?"

Brushing Dante's arm away, Credo grumbled, "Stop."

That did remind me…

"I don't understand why I'm not allowed to talk about sex or masturbation if you can flirt with people in front of me," I said.

"Wow, not the same thing, Dad."

"Father, you're breaking the rule."

The bowls and forks rattled as Nero's fist came down on the table in time with a swell of demonic power. "Don't change the subject! Tell me the damn plan."

We'd put it off as long as possible, hoping we could distract him until nightfall. That ploy had shattered, but Credo picked up the pieces with a practiced ease. "Apologies. I wanted to wait and see the state of the capital, particularly the guards, before I made any solid decisions. As things stand, I believe our best choice will be to use one of the old escape tunnels below the castle to sneak inside approximately three hours before sunrise. The guards are stretched thin at that time and are usually drowsy anyway. That should give us enough time to find your rings and  _convince_  Sanctus to hand over the kingdom, preferably without a fight."

I understood then why Nero had trusted Credo's lies for so long. The man was damn good at faking, not a twitch in his expression or a waver in his voice.

"There are escape tunnels?" Nero asked. His tone brightened with surprise rather than disbelief.

"They were originally installed for the royal family in case of attack, but there's been no upkeep on them. I've been told they're quite dangerous now, so we'll need to tread carefully. It's likely some demons have taken up residence down there."

"Shouldn't be a problem," Nero said with the cocksure smirk I often saw Dante wear.

Even in his act, Credo couldn't hide his stern disapproval. "If you're going to go-"

"I am," Nero cut in.

He wasn't.

"-promise me that you won't rush ahead and barrel your way into trouble. And you must get some proper sleep beforehand. You look like a corpse."

Kyrie giggled. "You're sounding like his mom again."

It was cruel of us to play on Nero's trust, but even while his calm smile sent a punch of guilt to my gut, I did not change my mind. We needed to leave Nero behind for now. He was too untrained and unstable to be anything but a liability.

In the meantime, at least he could enjoy his festival. By the time our clothes were on the wearable side of damp, the thrums of a small band began to play along the inn walls. "They must be practicing for the dancing," Kyrie said, seeming to glow with her eager smile.

At the mention, Dante perked up as well. "Dancing? Then it's a good thing I'm back in clothes I can actually move in."

"You may not have much luck, son. I believe all the dances in Fortuna are quite strict and choreographed." Impressive to watch, but difficult to join. I'd learned a few of them ages ago and scanned my memories for the steps.

"I bet I could figure it out. Besides, they're just practicing right now, aren't they? Can't hurt to join in."

"Dante, if you go there just to try to pick someone up," Vergil said, leaving his threat unfinished.

"Please don't," Credo added. "You'll make a fool of yourself and draw more unwanted attention."

Hopping to her feet, Kyrie beamed so brightly that it was a wonder I didn't go blind. "We could teach them!"

"We?" Credo echoed.

"Well, not you, but Nero knows the steps, right?" She turned to the little prince, who shrank back under her chipper attitude.

"Nero's never danced before," Credo said.

A snort cut him off. "Yeah, but I know all the steps. I've seen all the dances a million times, just sitting there watching the festivals."

Perhaps too thrilled with whatever she was thinking, Kyrie bounced on her toes. "See? He's got this. Nero, you can teach Dante, and I'll teach Lady."

"Why am I teaching Dante!?"

"Because he's a man, and he has to learn the men's part for this song." She pointed toward the wall where the echoes of music gathered and pulsed like a swarm of insects. The tune thrummed with a light, energetic feel.

"Fine…" With the way he drew out the word with a hiss, Nero did not seem fine with it. Despite his misgivings, though, he stood and started barking orders at Dante.

I'd never realized someone could hold a blush for as long as Nero managed it, but his constant frustrations with Dante's two left feet may have contributed to the reddening of his cheeks. When the song came to an end, Dante had gotten all of three steps down, one of which was a clap.

"This one's a little easier," Kyrie said as the next swell of strings began. "You just have to make sure to properly greet your partner at the beginning of each song. The men bow. The women curtsey."

Dante had no troubles with this step, and for some reason, Lady bowed as well. Kyrie may have been teaching her the men's steps anyway. When Nero remained upright, Kyrie scolded him. "Nero, make sure you curtsey for your partner."

"I'm not a woman."

"But you're his partner, and you're teaching him, so play your part."

I had to place my hand across my mouth to keep from laughing at just how much sarcasm Nero managed to put into a bend of his knees and a flick of his wrists. The sheer loathing must have taken some skill to accomplish. Even Vergil cracked a smile at the sight.

"Would you like to dance with me?" I asked Vergil. "I'll even let you be the man."

His smile vanished. "I'd rather die."

"Ah, hurtful and melodramatic, son."

Fortunan dances were chaste at best, with almost no direct contact, yet Dante and Nero stepped on each other more often than not. In all fairness, Nero wasn't the best teacher. He struggled to put directions into words, grumbling how Dante needed to "move there. No, there! Stop that!"

Not that Dante was helping by grinning at Nero's frustrations. As I was beginning to worry Nero would try to kill my son again, the song came to an end. "You're a dreadful dancer," Credo drawled as he tried to glare a hole through Dante.

Dante placed his hand on his chest in mock empathy. "How cruel of me to not realize your jealousy sooner. You poor soul. Here, I will hand the kid off to you under the pretense of you 'showing me how it's done' so that you may dance with him." With another bow, he stepped away.

One of my son's favorite games was seeing just how much he could rile up others, and he'd found an ideal target in Credo. The man's response was hissed as he hid his face behind his hand. "I didn't say that!"

With a smirk that rivaled Dante's, Kyrie strode over to haul her brother to his feet. "Go ahead, Credo. Show him."

A blush burned in Credo's ears as he stood opposite his charge. Nero, meanwhile, was focused on the start of the new song. His face pinched in disdain at the sound of sweeping chords. "Do I have to be the girl again?"

The ceiling had all of Credo's attention. "I would… switch, but this song is difficult when the women's part is the taller party, and well-" Credo's hand found his face again. "-you're shorter."

"Fine, whatever."

"But you don't have to do a curtsey, really."

Despite looking like he'd rather be doing anything else, Nero accepted Credo's bow with his own. I wasn't certain if the boy knew that he was allowed to ignore Kyrie's demands, or if he was actually enjoying himself and refused to show it. When the dance began, I realized it must have been the former because Credo was a nervous wreck, and the two couldn't look each other in the eye. Unlike the vibrant songs, this one was slow, sappy - clearly for couples. It included several twirls, and each spin had Nero more and more red.

Dante was grinning so wide that it must have hurt.

Always a half-step behind, Lady watched Credo and Nero out of the corner of her eye and copied their movements for Kyrie. The girls, at least, seemed to be enjoying themselves. Seeing Lady smile was so rare that I wondered if I should count it as a bad omen, but it was hard not to smile at Kyrie's bubbling giggles.

When the music swelled, Nero froze in place. He slammed his feet to the floor as though that would plant them. "If you pick me up, I will kill you," he said more to the ground than his partner.

"I… wasn't going to."

"Good. Great. We're done here."

Dante and I clapped for them after Lady attempted the final twirl under Kyrie's instructions, and Credo and Nero stood apart in silence. Stress radiated off of them.

"It's a shame we can't go to the festival," I said. "I imagine it's quite fun."

"Why can't we go?" Kyrie asked. "We have time." Her doe-eyed pout was a clear ploy, if an impressive one. It was no wonder she always got her way.

"None of us have masks," I said, "and it is a masquerade. If I'm not mistaken, the masks are a requirement." I knew what would come next, of course. I only brought up the idea to plant it in their heads. We needed to go get masks, needed to go to the festival. A crowd of faceless people would make slipping away from Nero much easier. Cruel but simple.

Credo understood, catching my eye and giving the slightest nod despite his perpetual frown. "There are several stalls that sell masks if you all wish to go," he said. "The market lights a number of lanterns so that night does not impede on things. Still, it will be quite dark, so as long as none of you draw too much attention to yourselves, we shouldn't attract many eyes."

Dante was quick to grab the opportunity. "Speak for yourself. I don't need to do anything special for attention."

"Yes, you're a walking disaster," Credo muttered. "How could people not stare?"

Likely on purpose, Nero spoke to cut through the swell of tension. "I have a mask. Same one as always. It's in Blue's saddle." He pawed at his nose in that odd habit. "I've never actually gotten to go to a festival, so I guess that could be neat."

A smile broke out across my face. If he wanted to attend, all the better. He could enjoy his distraction, have fun, and be none the wiser. "You should go get it," I said. "I'd like to see this mask you've always worn. And while you're outside, could you send my dogs in? I need to make sure they're behaving."

Nero blinked. "Oh, sure. Aren't they not allowed inside though?"

"They will make due."

As Nero slipped out the door, Lady turned on us with crossed arms and a glare. "He's oblivious, but I'm not. What's going on? What's the real plan?"

We had every intention of telling the girls, so I offered a summation. Though she nodded along, Kyrie's hands clasped beneath her chin. Lady's scowl deepened to a cavernous snarl. She only agreed to play along under orders from myself and a bribe from Dante. At this rate, she would inherit his whole fortune and some of Vergil's as well.

When the dogs popped in, no longer dogs, I could only hope they'd found somewhere private to transform instead of the middle of the markets. "What do you need, Your Majesty?" Rudra asked, hopping up to the side of my chair.

Agni followed suit on the other side. "We're here to help."

"I just need you two to look after Nero, as before," I said. "He will be unarmed tonight. In the instance of trouble-"

"Yes! We will help!"

"We will be a great help!"

Tossing his hands up, Dante huffed. "Why did you and I have to fight them to get them to behave, but they take one look at the kid, and they'll do anything for him."

"He is nice," Agni said, toeing at the ground as though embarrassed. "And the Bringer. The Bringer is nice."

Each of us shifted at that, heads tilting or turning at attention. "Bringer?" I asked.

The blue of Rudra's eyes flashed brighter at the word. "His arm. Isn't that what it's called? I feel like that is the right name. That is what it called itself when it touched us before." His gaze fell to his hands clenching them open and shut. "Bringer," he purred. "It feels like power, so much power. Like… like a fountain."

"It's cozy too," Agni added, always less articulate than his brother. "Makes us tired."

Curiosity ate at me as Nero returned, forcing us to cut the conversation short. Agni and Rudra greeted him like they were still dogs. They rushed up to him and both nagged him for attention. I hadn't thought much about why they liked Nero. Agni and Rudra rarely existed on any logical plane, so they would like and dislike anyone for baffling reasons. For it to have something to do with that arm was mystifying to me. The "Bringer" may have been an entity all its own, a parasite latched onto the little prince. Or it could have been a concentration of everything that happened to him, of the stories I wished to unlearn. Above all else, the arm was a weapon, and a dangerous one. Even with Lady and Kyrie to watch him, we were taking a gamble by leaving Nero among a crowd.

His mask must have looked better on him when his hair was white, but it fit him regardless. Simple, sharp, and blacker than the night sky. It covered everything around his eyes and dipped down over his cheekbones.

"While I don't approve of you having to wear it so often, it does look nice on you," I said.

His hand on his chin, Dante stepped up and leaned over Nero. "It looks like you're wearing a bat," he decided. "Do they all look like that?"

They did not. In fact, the varieties were so great that Dante took to dragging his brother around to every stall just so he could see how each mask would look on Vergil, and by extension, himself.

"I'm surprised Vergil hasn't killed him yet," Nero said as they drifted further from us. Kyrie had gone off with Lady as well, saying something about a hat. Credo got himself one of the cheaper checkered masks before excusing himself to check the guard positions. I doubted we would see him again for the night.

Well, Nero would not.

Not wanting to clash, I held each mask down to test its color next to my coat. Just as I found one to my liking, Nero said, "Nah, that won't fit. Here," and handed me one painted with false gold and brocade.

"It's quite flashy."

"And your outfit isn't?"

Fair point. After paying, I followed Nero's gaze to where Dante and Vergil stood. Vergil seemed to have picked out a plain gray mask opposite Dante's shimmering red one. The red was several shades off from his coat, and the two looked dreadful together. The settling night would help to obscure that, not that Dante was likely to care.

"I've been to several of these events before," I admitted as we watched my sons in one of their usual arguments. It could have been about anything or nothing, always with Dante smug and Vergil haughty.

"In Fortuna?" Nero asked.

"Some here, yes, but masquerades are such an old tradition in so many places. When I was much younger, humans and demons would mingle at them. The masks kept us from telling which was which. It was an odd game we'd play on the darkest nights of the year. Quite fun, actually. Originally, humans would wear masks to trick us, but then we just joined in." I couldn't help but smile, even as Nero's expression puzzled.

"How old are you?"

"Ah, that is a good question." And not one I had an answer for. Nero must have realized this because his shoulders sank with a huff of breath.

"You're just as annoying as they are. I want you to know."

"Oh, I'm quite aware."

Every second, it seemed another person appeared in the square. Mask after mask until hundreds of different faces swarmed the place. I spotted Lady only from the scar on her nose. Both she and Kyrie had been afforded a change of clothes that we had not. Kyrie sported a flowing dress, and with her hat and vest, Lady looked… rather masculine.

Nero jolted when I snapped my fingers. "I figured it out."

"Figured what out?"

"Nothing important."

Once again, I earned that puzzled stare until he gave up with a growl. "Hey, do you think they're going to announce my death? Even though I didn't really die?"

"It seems likely. As far as they're aware, you've run away and hid. Even if you tried to intercede now, if you don't have any form of proof, they can tell the people you're a fake."

His anger wasn't enough to hide the weariness sinking into his eyes as he scanned the crowd. "I'm just not looking forward to seeing the fallout."

"Perhaps we can get you to bed before that."

"I'm not a little kid."

"Of course, of course." He was practically an infant to me, but I wasn't going to incur his wrath around so many people. Though he didn't seem to enjoy my presence, I found myself unable to shake him. He stuck as close as possible, squeezing his way through the crowd to keep at my heels, just as the dogs tried to stay at his.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"I wanted to see the dancing." Truthfully, I was wandering to see how determined he was to stay with me. He'd never shown any interest in me before, and I thought he'd been excited about the masquerade. The food at the stands smelled nice enough that I considered trying to pay him to leave, but I still had time.

"I don't see anyone else. Where did they go?"

"Kyrie and Lady are there," I said, nodding to the circle of spinning couples, the area less dense than the walkways.

"Yeah, but they're... I'm not going to bother them."

As I wondered how he'd noticed before me, realization slapped me across the face. "Do you not wish to be alone, Nero?"

Despite his earlier claims, he leaned between his feet like an antsy child, tapping his toes against the ground. "I've never really… been in a crowd, but I'm fine! I can handle myself. It's fine."

Not only was he terrible at lying, he was unaware of how good he was at guilting me. Like when Eva said her pregnancy wasn't bothering her, or when Vergil and Dante kept saying they were alright after the attack on the castle. But I couldn't stay, trying and failing to make things better. My time was limited.

"You still have your dogs," I reminded him.

"Yeah, they're dogs right now, and we didn't buy them masks."

"I was worried they would misbehave if I let them be in human form."

Angered barks that sounded suspiciously like young men saying "bark" followed. Seemed they hadn't gotten the vocal cords down.

"Don't lie to me, you two," I said. "I know you."

After all that, I finally, finally got a laugh out of Nero, caught somewhere between a giggle and a snicker that made his shoulders bounce. He'd be furious with all of us soon enough, so that was bound to be the only time I would hear him laugh. Well, it was of no great importance. I needed to focus on leaving.

"Would you like to dance with me, Nero?" I asked.

"Are you insane? To this?" His hand flitted toward the air like a bird. Another one of the sappy slow songs played alongside the swell of chatter from the people. Ah, right, he didn't like to be twirled.

"This song is about over, so the next one?" I offered a hand that he looked at as though it held a dagger.

"The next song could be the same, and I'm not dancing with a man in front of all these people. You don't even know the steps."

"Like I said, I've been to a number of these. I believe I know the dances well enough. You can trust me, Nero."

He made a noise from the back of his throat like he'd been choked. "You threw me into a wall."

"You put your arm through my son."

I could see him chewing on the tip of his tongue as he searched for a response. "Yeah," he said at length. "Fair."

"Well, it's no matter. I hold no grudges, and I wouldn't wish to make you uncomfortable if you don't wish to dance."

He snorted. "You? Make me uncomfortable? Perish the thought."

As the next song began, he watched the flowing dresses and tapped his foot in time with the dance. "I'm certain we can find you a proper partner if you wish to join," I said just to ensure his eyes would remain forward.

They did. He was quite entranced. "I'd… rather not. It's not like I want to dance anyway."

"Then my apologies, little prince."

"Hey, cut that out. You can't-"

By that point, I could only hear him, a distant voice melting among the crowd. He must have noticed I'd slipped away because he called for me in confusion. I felt a dreadful clawing in my gut for it, especially when a man in uniform called for everyone's attention, allowing me to dart into the shadows of an alley without notice, retrieving the weapon I'd hid. I felt even worse when the crowd erupted in wails over the death of the boy I'd left alone among them.

Alone to face their agony, their wrath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Why were they in dresses at that one point?"
> 
> Listen
> 
> I mean, I don't have an answer, but they looked great.


	13. Our Toil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're here.  
> Finally.  
> We're finally here.  
> We made it.  
> The plot.

The crowd was so damn loud, a swell of gasps and cries, demands and questions. In the thrum of desperation, the people became a sea of movement, rushing like a swarm of insects until I was so dizzy that I had to dart away to a dingy alley. Agni and Rudra stuck with me, at least. They were the only ones who did. I couldn't find a single recognizable face or mask or coat in the crowd. The footsteps and voices swelled to a roar in my ears as I searched for someone. Anyone.

When I found them, I was going to tear them apart, those goddamned-

A force like the blunt side of a sword slammed into my back, throwing me face-first into the wall of the nearby building. I reacted in time to keep my nose from crunching and turned to crack the side of my head instead. Agni and Rudra growled until a woman cut them off. "Hush, you two," she said in a voice like silk frozen solid. "Are you back now, Prince? I can't have you losing it so close to all these people, so take it easy."

Settling a scowl on my face, I swallowed the fear of what her words implied and tried to push down the rush of incoherence still pulling at my mind. She must have been pinning me with her arm because that was the only pressure I could feel against my back, yet no matter how I tried to shove away, she held me in place. My arm buzzed like sandpaper cutting at it from the inside. She must have been a demon.

"Who the hell are you?" I demanded, ready to slip my demonic arm free of the sling. When the pressure against my back vanished, all the force I'd put against her sent me stumbling into the opposite wall.

"All you had to say was yes," she said. Her hair was such a light blonde that it seemed to glow in the moonlight. She wore too little for… any occasion. I might have given her my coat if not for the fact that she was a demon and a huge pain. She crossed her arms, a smile playing on her lips. Her eyes were such a bright, icy blue that I had to force myself to hold her gaze. It seemed to stab right through me. "Nice to finally meet you. Dante never bothered to introduce us, useless as he is. You can call me Trish for now."

"For now?"

Rather than answer, her smile widened. She didn't extend a hand, bow, or curtsy - not that she was wearing a skirt - so I didn't offer her a formal greeting either.

"You're one of Dante's friends?"

"In a sense. I work at the castle. These two can vouch for me." She gestured to Agni and Rudra. The former was sitting with part of his tongue sticking out, and the latter dug at his ear with his hind foot. They weren't doing much to stick up for her, but I guessed they would have attacked her for me had she been hostile. Still, I needed to keep on my toes around any demon. The bastards needed to quit getting all friendly with me.

"If you need more proof, I'm also the one who made that drug to help you fight off the poison," she said.

That didn't endear her to me at all, my nose scrunching. "So it's your fault Vergil kissed me."

"Oh? I hadn't heard about this. You'll have to tell me later. We're short on time if you wish to catch up with the others. If you're looking for their weapons, they already took them." She waved her hand toward the surrounding alley with a languid roll of her wrist. "Looks like you're left with the fleabags."

Agni and Rudra gave huffs and snorts as a fresh swell of anger hit me. "Catch up? Where did they go?"

Like I didn't already know the answer. They'd lied to me. Of course they did. Everything had been lies lately.

"Easy, Prince," Trish said. "The murderous intent is rolling off of you. Contain it, would you?" She waited until I released a sharp breath like the dogs. "Good, now I'm not caught up on the situation, but it seems they've gone to the castle. I can help you get in as well if that's what you want."

"Why do you care?" I asked. "What's in it for you?"

Her smile held a tinge of cruelty. "Sated curiosity. You want to know why they left you too, don't you?"

I felt sure it was just Credo being overprotective. That was his job, after all. But taking along men he hardly knew in my place was unlike him, not to mention irritating as hell.

"They let Dante go," I grumbled. " _Dante_ , but not me."

I shouldn't have listened to her. She showed all the signs of someone I didn't need to stick around - a demon  _and_  a Capulet. Credo always said not to trust strangers, but lately, those who weren't strangers hadn't given me a reason to trust them either. "Fine," I decided. "Let's go. Where's this secret passage?"

"Passage?" she echoed, her head listing to the side. "I would imagine the front door is much easier."

"Right, because the guards are going to just let us in." I didn't trust her widening smile, my eyes narrowing. "And I'm not killing any guards."

"You do like to jump to conclusions," she said. "While they may not let you into your own castle…" Her hand drifted up between us, the movement ending with a snap of her fingers. Before the sound finished echoing in the alley, her skin faded to a darker hue while her hair lost most of its color and sheared itself short. All that remained the same were her eyes.

Her appearance was too strange not to recall. "I've seen you before," I realized, "at the castle."

"You remember me? I'm flattered." She gave a half-bow that reminded me how little she wore and forced my gaze elsewhere. "I've worked at the castle for some time, and I'd hoped to be able to meet you sooner, but no one would ever allow me close. The best I ever got was a few distant glances, but you were always wearing that mask, just like now." She leaned in close. Her eyes hovered in front of mine, pinning me in place. "That castle is full of secrets, and weaseling my way in turned out to be more trouble than expected."

"Which side are you on?" I asked, flexing my hand as my arm pulsed. Vergil had said that only powerful demons could have convincing human forms, so I wasn't sure what to think of Trish having two separate ones. If I had to guess, I didn't want to fuck with her.

"My loyalties lie with Capulet, but does it matter? If I were truly loyal to Fortuna, wouldn't it be my role to protect the prince, even if he's supposedly dead? The way your country operates has me quite intrigued, so while I'm in this for myself, I'm happy to help you to that end. By the way-" She righted herself, giving me room to breathe. "Call me Gloria."

"Gloria?"

She smiled. "For now."

This woman was going to be the death of me somehow. Every instinct nagged at me to get away from her, but my feet remained planted. I needed answers, needed the truth. For once.

"We ought to get going, Prince," she said as she pulled a rope from somewhere on her person. Her boot, maybe. I decided not to think about it. "Should we let Lady and the girl tag along? They're getting pretty irritated looking for you."

"They're still here?" I'd assumed they'd left me like the others, but of course, Credo would have left someone to keep an eye on me. The chaos of the crowd must have let me give them the slip without realizing it. When Kyrie did find me, she would scold me for hours, and she absolutely wouldn't let me set foot near the castle.

On Credo's orders, no doubt.

"They're closing in on us," Trish, or Gloria, said.

"Then we should leave. I'm not going to let them stop me."

She clicked her tongue in disapproval. "Lady will have my head for this, so I'll be placing the blame on you, but very well." Grabbing my human arm, she jerked it up alongside my cast one. The rope darted around my wrists so quickly that it must have been some parlor trick, some slight of hand, yet when I tugged against the rope, it held firm.

As a warning growl rose in my throat, she put a finger to my lips, fizzling my fire to silence. "Like you said, they won't let you in. Keep your head down. You'll be my prisoner for now. I can't just waltz in with some unleashed boy, so keep quiet. You should still have the strength in that arm of yours to free yourself if the need arises, yes?"

If I used the angry, pulsing power within it, I was certain I could. After that, though, I wasn't sure what would happen. My arm was itching to tear into something. I could feel that with each forced, slow breath I took in an effort to calm it. The fringes of almost losing control still pulled at the edges of my mind.

Staying bound was for the best.

When she tugged at the end of the rope, I followed. Her walk was hypnotic, drifting back and forth in a way that couldn't have been comfortable. At first, we headed away from the castle, but she hushed my protests, saying that we were just avoiding the crowds. Once we reached a silent, near-black area, she glanced back at the dogs still on my heels.

"You two will need to be scarce when we get to the castle," she said. "I can't make up an excuse to bring dogs along. Just stick to the shadows, and stay quiet, alright? I'm sure you can manage to sneak your way inside if you're not too stupid for once."

Agni hopped up on his hind legs to paw at my leg. Rudra tried to mirror the action, but I'd already taken a step, and he fell back down with a huff.

"Yes, I know you're looking after him," Gloria said. "If he needs help in a fight, you can jump in. Will that satisfy you? Otherwise, stay hidden."

Though I had a feeling no real dog sounded like they did, they barked what I guessed was approval.

"Hey," I said as I tried to rub my wrists together in an attempt to quell an itch. "You said you'd seen me before."

"Yes, and you saw me." She didn't look back, still headed forward with that odd, swaying walk.

"Then you knew I was the prince."

"Yes."

"And you knew I was real."

Either she wasn't catching on to the accusations I was trying to grind into my voice, or she didn't give a damn. "The real prince? I was aware of you, yes."

"Then why didn't anyone else in Capulet know? Vergil and Dante talked about me like I was some fantasy."

"You might as well have been," she said. "The church kept you locked up in a tower like any good fairytale princess. What did it matter if you were real? I didn't expect that anyone in Capulet would meet you, and I wished to talk to you myself before reporting anything. Sparda would have gotten troublesome if I'd reported that there was a child smelling of demonic power back at Fortuna Castle. You know how he is."

I wanted to argue, wanted to yell and snap and snarl. My arm roared with the urge, but she was right. It didn't matter. Even as my eyes seemed to burn, I crushed the anger down under my heel and took another slow breath.

"Speaking of," Gloria continued, "you need to get that demon side of yours under control. You'll have to learn to fight with it, not against it, or it'll keep taking over."

"Sparda said it would be fine," I grumbled, digging my canine into my lower lip.

Her voice fell flat. "Of course he did."

When we reached the castle gate, and Agni and Rudra vanished into the darkness, Gloria turned to sugar-coated words and feigned empathy for the anxious guards. "I'm not sure we'll have anyone to deal with a prisoner right now," one said. "Haven't you heard what happened?" He looked two steps from a breakdown, his eyes hollow with grief.

They must have been upset about me, yet they didn't look at me twice, too engrossed in that mythical version of me that had turned up dead.

Gloria spoke like an overbearing mother. "I know, but I have to put him away somewhere. I can place him in the dungeon for now. It's nothing to be concerned over."

The thought of the dungeon made my stomach roll. Gloria had to jerk at the rope to get me to move again. I didn't realize we'd made it past the gate until she spoke. "You are all riled up, aren't you? Take it easy. I won't be throwing you to the wolves."

Blinking hard, I tried to collect my expression into something flat, unreadable. I must not have succeeded because I could feel tension turning toward a headache behind my furrowed brow.

The castle was emptier than I'd ever seen it yet cold as always. The few people I did see stood alone, quiet. They paid us no heed, lost in their own thoughts and going through the motions of their work.

We didn't head toward the dungeons, at least. I still wished that the dogs could be at my heels as I realized why she dragged me upstairs to the room I'd always loathed. I'd only ever gone to Sanctus's study to be scolded. It was always something with that old bastard, the way I walked or spoke or stood. Nothing was ever good enough. He tried to act friendly with his lectures, patting me on the shoulder as I held back a wince. We could never have gotten along, not with how pale Credo got every time he was near Sanctus. When I was younger, I'd tried to ask why, but I learned to stop asking, and anyone Credo didn't like, I didn't like.

That didn't leave me with many allies.

"Why are we here?" I hissed as she stepped up to Sanctus's door.

She paused long enough to pass a glance back to me. "I'm curious, and I have some questions I'd like to ask him. I'm sure you do too."

Questions were less of a concern than kicking the old man's ass, but Gloria must have seen the answer in my eyes. "Behave for now," she said. "You shouldn't be the one to deal with him. That would reflect poorly on you."

Considering how much the people loved the idea of their prince, I did wonder if they would begrudge me for killing their holy leader. I wouldn't hurt him, though. I didn't want to hurt people, didn't want to kill. No matter what the itch in my arm was trying to convince me.

Forgoing the whole system that was required to talk to Sanctus, Gloria rapped on the door while I stood gaping at her. "Your Holiness," she called, "I come bearing a gift in these trying times."

"Gloria," he responded in his usual sighed greeting. "Very well. Come in."

"Relax," she murmured in answer to my glare. "Play along. If things get worrisome, I'll take care of it."

Clenching my jaw so tight that my temples throbbed, I followed her lead through the door. Sanctus sat at his desk, and though I saw recognition in his eyes when he looked to me, his expression didn't change. He didn't move. That was all the confirmation I needed that he was in on the whole insane scheme.

"I go through all the trouble of bringing the prince back," Gloria said with a flourish of her hand, "only to find out that he's died. How tragic."

"How did you find him?" Sanctus asked. His dry, tired tone was difficult to read alongside his lack of expression. "I didn't realize you were back in the capital, Gloria."

"I heard there had been some trouble with the prince, so I came back to investigate." Lies rolled off her tongue with the same ease as they had Vergil's. "By the time I got here, the festivities had been ruined by news of his death, yet I ran into this suspicious boy at the same time, mask and all." Without warning, she tore the mask from my face, leaving my expression open for Sanctus to rake his gaze over.

But I wouldn't let the old bastard intimidate me anymore. When we locked eyes, I hoped he could feel every ounce of contempt I felt. "You ought to have stayed away, Nero," he said. "You could have lived out your life elsewhere. I'm sure you would have been much happier that way."

"You would have been much happier," I snarled, fury clawing at my chest like a wild animal. A light tug at my restraints brought me back to stable ground.

"Who's next in line for the throne anyway?" Gloria asked. "There must be some duke or lord."

"There was," Sanctus stressed. "But it's for the best that we removed the element of lineage altogether, don't you think? We gave it a try, but we determined that it's unfair and unwise to let a single family determine the fate of a people. They say a king is supposed to be chosen by God, after all."

I wanted nothing to do with any god that would choose to put Sanctus on the throne. "The monarchy may be flawed," I said, "but it's sure as hell better than you ruling, you lying fuck!"

Gloria placed her hand across her mouth like she was trying to stifle a cough. Sanctus sighed. "You are proving my case, it seems. You could have been an admirable ruler, but we could never seem to quell that rebellious streak of yours. A shame, but I suppose you served a greater purpose in the end."

My pulse seemed to rattle my skull. "You still think I'm your pawn?" I must have swallowed glass for how my voice seemed to tear up my throat, jagged and raw. "You are nothing, you pathetic-"

Another tug on my wrists, matched with a kick slamming into my back, had the floor rushing up to meet me. The crack of my head against the stone brought back enough of my senses that I kept myself from trying to turn on Gloria as the heel of her boot dug between my shoulder blades, keeping me pinned. I hadn't realized how close to the edge I'd been until I let myself lie still, cooling my rage against the icy floor. Great, I was losing it.

"Perhaps it was always meant to fail," Sanctus said, his tone unchanged. "It no longer matters. You can take him to the dungeon. Agnus was hoping to have him back."

Like some childhood fear of the dark that had never gone away, the thought of setting foot near the dungeon ate me up inside. Even on the rare occasions that I was allowed to wander the castle as I saw fit, I stayed as far from that gaping maw under the floors as possible. With how often I fought demons, I knew that being afraid of a goddamn room was stupid, and I tried to shake the fear as Gloria pulled me to my feet.

How she passed herself off as a human with that kind of strength, I had no clue.

Getting away from Sanctus was a pleasant enough thought that my legs followed orders and moved when Gloria pulled us toward the door. I was so caught up in trying to quash my illogical fears that Sanctus speaking again made me jolt.

"Before you go, Nero, I'm curious."

Annoyance fit comfortably on my face as I turned back to him. "What?"

"Whatever happened to Credo? I would never have imagined him leaving you to your own devices after he was so anxious to retrieve you."

My expression betrayed me, eyes widening in a moment's fear that he'd seen right through the ploy. It wouldn't have been the first time.

Gloria's silver tongue saved me again. "Oh, I apologize," she said. "Did you want him alive? I thought just the prince would be of interest, and he was rather in the way at the time."

I wasn't sure the lie made much sense, but she was so sincere about it that a moment's fear flickered in my chest that she might have actually killed him. And still, bastard that he was, Sanctus's expression remained even. "No, he failed his usefulness ages ago. He would have met the same end here. Carry on."

My heart beat so rapidly that the tips of my claws twitched with every pulse. Gloria had to drag me out. "I'll kill him," I hissed after she shut the door behind us. "I bet that bastard killed my parents too. I'll fucking kill him."

"No," she said with a quick smack to the back of my head. "Keep it together until we find the others. I'm not dealing with you if you go off. They can do that." She heaved a melodramatic sigh. "I wanted to ask him more, but I suppose it can wait. I'm certain he knows more than he's letting on, and I have a feeling he's only having me handle this as a means of cutting off some loose ends."

"You think he wants you dead too?" I asked between forced slow breaths. I was not going to lose it. I was not.

"Seems likely. I know more than I should, and it's clear he doesn't like keeping around anyone who's outlived their usefulness to him. Watch your step."

Despite her words, I stumbled when she tugged me down the stairs. Staying focused on my surroundings was becoming a struggle, my head whirling with too much at once. I either needed to sit down or kill something soon, but I didn't have time to waste on keeping it together. I had to find the others. Had to find my rings. Had to figure out what the hell was going on.

"So you've met Agnus?" Gloria asked, slicing through my mess of thoughts. "I've never been allowed to, so naturally, I pried more. Everyone liked to pretend that he didn't exist, but of course, I'm not stupid."

"Agnus?" I blinked. "The blacksmith? I've never met him."

"Never?" Halting her progress down the steps, she glanced back. "I guess I misheard then. The rumors call him an alchemist. They say he works in the dungeons, and the workers here look ill-at-ease when they whisper about him."

"No, he's a blacksmith. He makes the Order's weapons."

That was what I'd been told, that he was some reclusive blacksmith who'd made Red Queen and the other Order swords. True, the name was a bit of enigma around the castle. I'd heard the whispers myself from a young age, but when I'd asked Credo, he'd assured me…

Gloria gave a curious hum as my expression sank under my thoughts. "Well, I hope there's not a forge in the dungeon," she said, turning away to continue toward ground level. "I wouldn't trust a fire under the castle."

"I think it's just cells down there," I said, not sure what else could be in a dungeon.

"You've never been down there either?" She knew the way, though, pulling us toward the stairs that descended into an abyss.

"No, never."

"Then why are you so afraid?"

"I'm not." I wished I could have lied as well as everyone else around me; then maybe I could have convinced myself.

"You don't have to tag along," Gloria said as we reached the top ledge. She paused, turning and slipping the ropes from my wrists as though there'd been no knot in the first place. "With the state you're in, you should avoid others, but you're welcome to run off and do whatever you came here to do. I got you in. You don't have to stick with me."

As I rubbed my wrist, the redness and irritation faded. "I came here to find my rings." And to kick everyone's ass for leaving me behind.

"Is that right?" Her feigned interest echoed in the hall as she started down the stairs.

"You didn't know?"

"You never told me."

"You didn't ask."

"I didn't care."

As the darkness swallowed her, a gentle clicking noise rushed up from behind me. Agni and Rudra had already taken their places by my feet before I'd even looked down to check on the sound. I could have aimlessly wandered the castle or tried interrogating Sanctus over the rings, but the one place I'd never looked lay below.

The more my heart raced at the thought of whatever was down there, the greater my curiosity grew in answer. I'd faced poison, assassins, and creatures from Hell. This was nothing, but I had to see to make sure. I had to know.

The dogs followed, tumbling onto each step, as I started down. My pace grew quick enough that I caught up to Gloria, her hand on the door. "Hello again, Prince," she said. "Keep in mind that I take no responsibility for what happens from here."

I had to speak through my teeth to keep my jaw from chattering. "Whatever. Just go."

The door opened with a whine. Peering around Gloria, I found a plain, empty room. "Must be the waiting room," she said with a breathy laugh. That looked to be the case, actually. Chains and cufflinks lined one wall, a row of cages along the other. The cell doors all hung open, and dark stains coated everywhere that the torches cast their flickering glow. The smell was the worst of it, cold and sickly like demon blood. It hung so heavy in the air that I pressed my sleeve to my nose to keep from gagging.

"Maybe the real fun is through that door," Gloria said, nodding toward the end of the room. My body seized at the sight of it, pulse racing as my whole body shook. I'd seen that door before.

"Not that one," I said, my desperate gaze falling on the only other door in the room. Well, it had been a door once, now nothing but shards and splinters of wood. The metal clasps that had once sealed it shut were warped.

"Why not?" she called as I crept over the wreckage to peer into the room. The only light came from the torches on the outside walls, but enough filtered in to show how small the area was. Fat dustmotes danced in the air and covered every surface. It was clear that someone had been through the room recently, with handprints and footprints stamping out bits of the ashy layers.

"Either you have some thief troubles, or we know how the boys got in," Gloria said, leaning much to close to angle me aside and step into the room. The dogs followed, playing in the kicked-up dust like snow as she examined the space. "It looks as though it might be a storage area, a vault even. I doubt that door would have opened without a little push from Sparda or his boys."

Stepping in after her, I traced my hands over the relics scattering the room. If Credo and the others had been here, they must have already swept the place for my rings. Crates were cracked open, scrolls fallen from shelves. A dim, water-stained painting leaned against the far wall. Slipping my demonic arm free of the sling, I used its blinding glow to see what had survived of the portrait.

The elements had taken their toll, but the young woman in an extravagant dress survived clearly enough that I could see her demure smile. "The queen?" Gloria asked as she stepped up to my side.

"Must have been," I murmured, gesturing to the rings on her hand. I'd never known art of any past ruler existed, though she looked nothing like me - straight brown hair and dark eyes with a sharp jaw.

Slipping her painting to the side, I found the king behind her wearing my missing rings. If possible, he looked even less like me. "Oh, a redhead," Gloria quipped. "Cute."

A third painting lay behind the king's. The least damaged of the three, it was easy to see the shine in the child's eyes. His hair was so long that I might have thought him a girl had I not recognized him.

He wore finery just like the other two and looked so much like them. "Is that the former prince then?" Gloria asked as my thoughts raced for some other explanation.

"Where are they?" I asked. Despite the fires roaring through my head, I felt empty.

"Who?"

"The others. They came through here, right? Where are they?"

Crossing her arms, she eyed me up and down. "I'm not going to tell you if you don't calm down first."

"Like hell," I hissed, brushing past her to storm back into the gaping, empty room. If we hadn't spotted them on the way down, then they must have been-

"Nero!" A grip on my arm pulled me back. Thinking it was Gloria, I raised my demonic hand and spun only to be stopped by Kyrie's furious glare. I hadn't seen her so angry in years. "What are you doing down here?" she demanded. Lady stood behind her by the entrance, crossbow raised and aimed directly at me. "I can't believe you just left us!" Kyrie fumed. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."

"I told him we should let you tag along, but he was adamant," Gloria said as she stepped into view.

"Trish," Lady said in greeting. When she lowered her weapon, I took that as a sign that they were as close to friends as anyone could be with Lady.

Snapping her fingers once again, Gloria returned to the blonde form. "I'm still hurt that you didn't invite me," she said.

Despite a roll of her eyes, Lady smiled. "How long have you been in Fortuna?"

"A while. You all took your time, didn't you?"

"We had some detours."

"Could you do this later?" I snapped, my blood back to boiling. "I need to find the others."

Kyrie kept a firm grip on my arm. "Nero, you need to calm down."

"Stop telling me to calm down!" Everything was so fucking bright, so fucking loud, and no one would listen to me. They just kept feeding me lies. I'd had enough of it. I would get some answers for once in my life.

Just once, I would get the truth.

Kyrie yelped as Lady pulled her back from me. "He's not safe right now," I heard Lady say, and I knew she was right because I couldn't think anymore. I didn't want to.

"The boys will have to take care of him," Trish said from somewhere far away. "They brought this upon themselves, honestly."

She was right. This was all their fault.

All.

Their.

Fucking.

Faults.

The door I'd been so afraid of shattered under my hand, and five sets of eyes turned on me at once.

"I thought I felt something odd," Sparda said, his brow furrowed.

"I told you we should have drugged him," Vergil added with a shrug, not looking up from the book in his hand.

The two stood on opposite walls, as though separate from the scene behind them. Credo, eyes wide with shock, held tight to Dante's arm, keeping him from running through a man who was cowering against the back wall.

I'd seen that man before - Agnus. The name snapped into place. Of course, I'd seen him hundreds of times. How could I have forgotten him?

I'd seen the room too. The corked bottles stuffed into shelves, the small, sharp tools lined up on carts, the table with the restraints. How could I possibly forget all that pain?

As my breathing turned to weak, quick gasps, the air grew deafening, everyone yelling at once. I didn't want to hear it anymore. I just wanted it all gone.

I'd always wanted it gone, so it couldn't get near me ever again.

Finally, when I reached out my hands, something answered my call, jumping into my grasp. "We can help," chimed the only soothing voices in the raging cacophony. "Yes, we will help like we promised."

All I could see was fire as it engulfed the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nero needs a nap.  
> I mean, same.


	14. Shall Strive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is about how Dante is pissed, and Nero is also pissed, and Vergil is- Hang on, he is also pissed? Is anyone not-? Okay, Credo is just really stressed.

The fact that I was the only one who needed to carry a torch irritated me beyond all reason. Damn inhuman Capulets.

"Could there have been more cobwebs in that passage?" Dante was saying with no concern for our need to avoid being caught, not that anyone was likely to notice our presence in the vault.

I'd never been down the passage, but I'd known of it from a young age, and my parents had told me that it was attached to a sealed room. They'd never used the words "vault" or "storage," and judging by the fact that I recognized most of the objects within, I had a guess that most of the contents had been moved there some twenty years before. The dust but minimal wear suggested as much.

"I think I might have actually eaten some spiders," Dante kept on, trying to ruffle the strands of webs from his hair.

"You wanted to lead," Vergil said as he cracked open an old chest. I couldn't see what lay inside with the heavy shadows the torch cast, but it must not have been much of interest because Vergil let the chest fall shut. "Might the rings be in here?" he asked. "Not a well-kept space, but I'd imagine them being with the other relics."

"I don't believe so," I said. "They're kept in specific boxes with the family crest on them, and I don't see anything like that here. Sanctus gave me my set, so I would imagine he has the others or at least knows where they are. I'd rather not waste too much time looking here."

Dante set to poking about regardless. "We should have kept the masks," he said, grinning. "Then we could have been proper thieves."

He wasn't supposed to be having fun.

"Is this the king?" Vergil asked. I had to carry the torch closer to him to see what he was talking about - an old portrait, but one I recalled well. Even as Vergil shifted it to look at the others behind it, I didn't need to see them to know what they showed.

"I wouldn't have expected those to be kept," I said. "Perhaps they're still around for the same reason I am."

"Some sort of insurance?" Vergil surmised. "A fallback plan?"

I nodded. "I'm certain Sanctus and the others expected to have more control over me." Had I not known them to be involved in the plot against my parents, perhaps I would have been a more dutiful puppet.

"Oh, that would have been a fun story," Dante said with a laugh. "The long-dead prince returns. It's a miracle."

That did make me wonder if they had always been uneasy about Nero, if they'd always expected for something to go wrong with him. Or if they'd always anticipated killing him.

"I suppose I'll need to come back and sort through all this," I said. "Some things will need to be burned."

Curiosity shone in Vergil's eyes. "You're so willing to erase the past? Even all record of your parents?"

"The past does no good for me anymore. Better to protect Nero's mindset than to dwell."

A nice way to say I would let him believe a lie forever if I could.

"But we should get going," I said. Though the princes acquiesced with nods, the king remained as still and silent as he'd become since we arrived. I was so accustomed to hearing him chatter that I'd almost forgotten his presence.

"Think too hard, Dad?" Dante asked, finally breaking the king from his staring match with the ground. "Pull something?"

Sparda's brow remained furrowed as he turned to his sons. "You do not feel it?"

"Feel what?" Dante asked.

"Perhaps I'm imagining it, then." Seeing Sparda without his easygoing smile made his words ring hollow. "I do tend to grow uneasy near gates."

"We're near the gate?" Vergil's tone was sharp with a demand for something I could not fathom. Before I could ask for an explanation or he could receive an answer, a muffled squeak of hinges and a crash of a door slamming shut set us all into a frozen silence. Like I'd forgotten how to walk, I had to force my legs to inch toward the door between us and whoever had arrived. Even before I pressed my ear to it, I could hear him muttering up a storm in the adjacent room.

"Agnus," I said as low as a growl.

The way Dante's eyes reflected dark even in the torchlight made me realize my mistake. "We don't need him, right?" he asked. The edge in his voice could have torn through a man, and both his father and brother looked to him with knowing glares.

"Agnus can be avoided," I said only because we were short on time. "He is of little import for now."

Alongside the mildew and dust clogging the air came the scent of a fledgling fire, like smoke had crowded the room without warning. "No," Dante said. "We don't need him  _alive_ , do we?"

I should never have told them that portion of the past.

No one answered him. I felt that if any of us tried to, the air would catch fire. No words could stifle the rage seething from the prince. Vergil and Sparda exchanged a glance that must have held some meaning. The crown prince looked irked, his father pleading.

Another distant door slammed shut, shattering the tense air as Dante strode up beside me and kicked the door open with a thunderous applause of shattering wood and screeching metal.

Well, so much for going unnoticed.

"Son," Sparda called with a sigh as he too rushed past me to follow Dante. Vergil crossed his arms as well as he could with his sword in one hand and shook his head before starting after his family. Unlike them, though, he wasn't in much of a rush.

"Seems we've announced our arrival," he said.

I had no choice but to tag along with them, dropping off my torch in one of the holders outside the door in case I needed it on the way back.

Even as Sparda attempted to talk to his son as though trying to reason with a rattlesnake, I couldn't help but wonder if I should let Dante kill Agnus. Death was the least of what Agnus deserved, but he may have still had some use, some information I'd never been able to pry from him. In that case, I did need him alive.

Besides, if anyone was going to kill that bastard, I wanted it to be me.

We must have still had some luck on our side because the first room was empty. Though it smelled of blood, sweat, and agony, no one hung from the chains along the walls or cowered away behind cell doors. I felt certain that was not usually the case. I'd seen many men dragged away to the dungeons. Hundreds, thousands perhaps.

Though I'd never seen the room myself, it fit well to the description I'd heard years before in a weak, trembling voice. "There's a big room first," Nero had said. "It keeps going forever. There's lots of metal on the walls. It's so cold."

The more he'd spoken, the closer he'd pressed to me, his whole form shaking as though caught in some fit. His eyes were the worst of it, fading to empty fear and making me regret every question I asked. But I kept asking because he made so little sense beyond his initial explanations. The moment I tried to move him beyond the first room, things fell apart. He would say the same things each time before falling to an icy, panicked silence.

"That's the room where things hurt. The ground is missing. It's dark. Stuff gets eaten. Falls in and gone. Everything hurts. Hurts. Hurts."

Until he was a shaking mess whom I had to hold in my arms so that he could find some form of restless, hazy sleep.

That was the room ahead, the one Vergil somehow reached before his brother. I swore he'd been just ahead of me moments before. "Don't go causing anymore unnecessary destruction, Dante," was all Vergil said before he slipped inside. Dante chased his heels, and their father heaved another sigh as he followed.

I was the last one to enter, and truthfully, I found the room underwhelming. I wasn't sure what could have lived up to my endless wondering over its contents, but shelving, bottles, and what appeared to be lateral versions of a torture rack were not my idea of the horrors I'd seen behind Nero's eyes.

The floor, though - something was wrong with the floor. A circle the length of two beds across was cut into the stone. Despite the room's many contents, nothing rested atop the metal covering over that area. The plates fit together in the center like a steel jaw with jagged teeth.

If the ground could go "missing" there, if it could open up, I feared what might be under it.

Across from us, Agnus, too, took up space in the room and was decidedly underwhelming. Rather than frightened or concerned, he glanced over us with clear annoyance. "Credo," he said as though my name tasted rotten. "You're alive."

"You would be wise to watch your words," I said. "You've gotten yourself on the bad side of some people with less of a mind to keep you alive than I, and my tolerance is worn quite thin."

Dante hadn't gone for the man's throat yet. With his brother a few paces in front of him and his father a few behind, he must have been trapped somehow, but he was still taut as a bowstring.

"Well, what do you want?" Agnus snarled through his ticking words. "Do you have some purpose in bothering me?" The fact that he showed no concern over four men with swords made me wonder if he had some trick I needed to worry about. Agnus was nothing if not a nervous wreck, yet he held only contempt for us.

As if to remind Agnus of his position, Dante slipped the sword from his back and rested its tip on the ground. Dante's gaze idly flicked over the sword as he spoke. "We have a lot to cover, but for starters, I hear you're the one who made Nero take that poison."

Agnus scoffed. "Is it really poison to him if he can withstand it? You cannot imagine how often I had to increase the potency just to ensure its effects."

With a sudden interest in the nearby bookshelf, Vergil turned and walked out of his brother's path. Sparda gave a terse click of his tongue, remaining in place as Dante stormed up to Agnus.

"You aren't going to stop him?" I hissed at the king. He'd been so adamant moments before.

His smile seemed to be a mockery of the ones he usually wore. "If it comes to it, I'll step in, but I'd like to keep my limbs for now."

If Sparda wouldn't help me, I knew better than to try asking Vergil. I didn't have the time anyway. Dante reached Agnus in such a furious red blur that he seemed to spark and waver like a fire. I had to run to catch up, skirting around the metal portion of the floor, even though I'd seen it hold Dante's weight.

"Hold on," I demanded as Dante's sword tested the edge of Agnus's throat. Considering I'd done the same a few days before, I hardly had room to intercept, but this was not Dante's problem to fix. "He still may have some use."

"You're not human," Agnus said, eyes bright with interest rather than fear as they swept over Dante. The prince's snarl twisted with discomfort. A twitch of Dante's sword did nothing to quell Agnus's excitement. His roving gaze caught sight of Sparda, bringing a grin to Agnus's face. "Then am I in the presence of royalty?" he asked. "I've heard so little about Capulet's family that I didn't recognize you. Forgive me. I would have been more hospitable."

"Yeah, I hear you treat your own prince great," Dante snarled.

As the tips of Agnus's gloved fingers tested Dante's sword, his tone fell to blandness. "If you are upset about the poison, you should turn on Credo. He is the one who requested it for Nero."

Agnus didn't flinch when I drew my sword as well. "What did you say?" I bit out.

"It must be so convenient for you to blame everything on me," Agnus said, his expression caught between a smirk and a scowl. "How easily you forget how you hounded me for something, anything to 'fix' the boy's arm. And when I gave you what you wanted, you threw that back in my face as well."

He was wrong. I'd never understood what the medicine did. I would never have given it to Nero if I'd known it was poison.

But now I was just lying to myself. I'd never known how the medicine worked, never understood the side effects or why he needed it every single day. But I'd always known what it was for.

"I may have asked you for something to help him, but you never told me it was poison," I said, struggling to keep my tone firm to mask my weakness. "Not that it would have made a difference. The alternative you gave me was far worse."

When Nero was a baby, I wouldn't let him out of my sight. I trusted no one in the castle to his care. He was my charge, so I kept an eye on any maid who looked after his needs, and the moment Nero was old enough to function without them, I sent them away.

When he grew too big to carry everywhere, I made sure his hand stayed locked in my grasp anytime we needed to go somewhere in the castle. He made no complaints. It was all he knew.

But as my teen years settled in, I grew weary of having him stuck to my side. Between that and Sanctus's constant badgering about the alchemists wanting to run some "tests," I gave in and let them have Nero. "Not even for an hour," they said.

Despite never being apart from me for more than a few moments, Nero followed the strangers away to the chimes of my assurances. He wore that wobbly pout that only children can manage, but he didn't argue. Not the first time.

When he came back in tears, wild-eyed like some startled rabbit, I realized I'd made a mistake. I didn't understand the full weight of it until Sanctus told me they would need to take Nero again. "He's quite sick," was the lie everyone gave me. "He needs treatment. It will be over soon, when he's better."

They wouldn't let me go with him, no matter how I tried to demand it, no matter how he sobbed and begged every time they tore him away. He often returned in a drugged haze and would lie in his bed, staring at nothing in endless silence. I wasn't sure if I hated that more than when he returned trembling like a leaf and clinging to my side as tears rolled down his face.

The worst, though, was when he was dropped into my arms like a weighted sack - limp, unconscious. Pale as death.

No one told me why. No one told me what was wrong with him. No one ever told me a damned thing.

"Credo," he said when he managed to keep his eyes open long enough to speak. His words came out as soft breaths, so quiet I had lean close to understand. "Is it done now? They said it wasn't gonna be forever."

My hand found a fever when I placed it on his cheek to try soothing him. That was when I decided I'd had enough. "Yes, my prince, it's done," I said. "You never have to go back again. I promise. I swear, they'll never take you again. You won't ever have to see the dungeon or think about it anymore. I'll make sure of it."

When they tried to collect him again, I faced them with fury and a sword in my trembling hands. "No more," I spat. "You don't get to take him there. You're making him worse, not better. I won't let you."

Whatever whims Sanctus possessed led him to smile and say, "Very well," and that was it. I didn't understand until Nero's fever grew worse and his arm began to… change.

Sanctus knew that I would need to go crawling back to them, that I would have to beg for aid. Whatever it was that had infected Nero's flesh, it spread from the back of his palm to his fingertips in two days. From there, it grew up against my useless attempts at medicines and research. By the fifth day, I could tell it was no human disease, and it was not divine. Nothing divine could have looked like that or caused someone so young and defenseless so much pain.

Perhaps thankfully, Nero was incoherent through most of it. The fever left him confused at best and unable to form words at worst. The gloss over his eyes always reflected pain from their depths. When the  _thing_  reached his elbow and began to glow, I saw no choice but to seek out Agnus.

He and I had not spoken before that point, no matter my attempts to demand answers of him. I waited at the entrance to the dungeons all day, watching terrified and angry men dragged in by guards. Though I'd heard of more than one alchemist working there, he was the only one to appear in my presence when he finally left at nightfall. While he wasn't that much older than me, I was a scrawny fifteen-year-old, made smaller under his unimpressed glare. "What did you do to Nero?" I demanded, trying to summon all the royal authority I'd seen my father use. But I had none.

"I did nothing he didn't require," Agnus said, some words snagging against him in an odd way that I later learned not to bother him about. "You're the one keeping him from his treatments. You're destabilizing him. If anything is wrong, that is your fault, not mine."

"Lies! His arm is cursed! It shines like moonlight, and you have the nerve to say that's my fault and not some alchemist's folly. You will fix what you've done. Turn it back!"

His anger snapped to curiosity, which I later learned to fear from him. "Is that right? I'll have to take a look then."

"You will not set foot near him."

"Then how am I to fix the problem if I cannot examine it?"

"You caused it. You can reverse it. It keeps spreading up his arm. It will reach his shoulder soon, and then-" Actually, I didn't know what then, but I feared what would happen if it kept on beyond that, if it reached his head or his heart.

"If you want the truth, I don't think it's an issue," Agnus said. "If its growth concerns you, let him return to his treatments, and I can put an end to it."

"No!" My hand clutched the sword grip at my hip so tightly that my knuckles ached. "You will never take him back to one of those. I refuse. If you're supposed to be some great alchemist, then fix what you've done and put his arm back the way it was!"

The bastard backhanded me so hard that I staggered against the wall. "I am great, but you would not understand that. There's no undoing what's been done. You let his arm get to that point. You will have to face it."

I kept my hand on my sword, refusing to acknowledge the throbbing pain in my face. Though every inch of me burned with the urge to strike him in return, I straightened my back and looked him in the eye. "There must be something you can do."

"What? Would you have me cut his arm off? I think you could manage that yourself."

That felt like a worse blow than his hand could ever land against me. My stomach twisted in knots. "If… If that's what it takes. But surely there must be something else."

His laugh came out more like a hiss. "Enough. Give me a few days. I'll give you something to drown out the effects, though I expect you'll complain of that as well."

He was right about that. I never let him hear the end of my fury over the "side effects." In exchange for the demonic sickness stopping at his shoulder, Nero never seemed to overcome his fever. Always pale, always lethargic. The medicine made him so weak that any more than an hour of strenuous activity would knock him flat. He rarely stayed up past sunset, yet he slept well past sunrise. If he pushed himself any harder, and he always did, then he hacked up blood. His breaths rattled through his insistences that he was fine. No matter how many years went by, he would always tell me that he was fine.

I told myself that perhaps he was right. He was as fine as he could be, never recalling the tests, the dungeon, or Agnus. I'd told him he would never have to think about them again, and at some point in that fever-induced haze, he listened to me. In his mind, he'd never set foot in the dungeons at all, never met Agnus.

If there was a god, that was the one mercy he afforded me.

"Call the poison my fault if you must," I said, sheathing my sword. "I'll bear that sin because it kept Nero away from you."

"Yes," Agnus sighed, "it's unfortunate that His Holiness sided with you on that matter. I could have molded Nero into something far better than the whining wretch he turned into."

Tempting as it was to consider which bone of his to break, I would not let Agnus control my rage any longer. I would not give him the satisfaction. Dante had no such qualms, and I understood his anger better than anyone. I'd seen the way his eyes burned with a righteous fury as I told them, my enemies, of my charge's greatest moment of weakness. That look was the only reason I trusted Dante, the only reason I'd voted to allow him to accompany us into the castle when Sparda and Vergil had suggested against it. Dante, for all his obnoxious tendencies, did not want to see harm come to Nero.

Besides, I wasn't going to leave Nero alone with the handsy bastard, but that did make him my responsibility, especially when he reminded Agnus of the sword against his neck. Though I grabbed for his arm and tugged, I found him frozen in place as well as any marble statue. "You don't have much of a sense of self-preservation, do you?" he asked Agnus.

Before I could try my hand at scolding him, his father cut in. "This is the one that's worth it, Son?" The calm in his voice held a weight, a warning. I looked back to find him standing at the edge of the metal trap along the floor, staring down at it with the same disapproval he showed his son. "This is the one you'll kill over?'

"Someone has to," Dante said. Though he pulled his sword back, he still seemed poised to run Agnus through at any moment, so I kept my arm hooked with his as though I had any chance of stopping him.

"I think we'll have something more pressing to worry about momentarily," Sparda said, looking like he had an itch steadily driving him crazy. From beyond the door, I could hear something faint yet loud. Yelling.

We must have been found out. The last thing I wanted to do was fight my own guard.

"Damn," Dante hissed, his anger branching to worry as he looked toward the door. "Did he follow us?"

Before I could make sense of his words, the door shattered just as the other had under Dante's boot. I'd been wrong. The last thing I would have wanted was to face Nero then, yet there he was, seething with such rage that I felt like his glare alone would brand me.

Then, in one sickening second of an eternal moment, his anger vanished, drowned out by that same empty gaze I'd not seen since he was a broken child I had to lead away from the dungeons.

Everything I'd done meant nothing because I knew that he remembered then. I couldn't even bring myself to call for him.

Others were yelling, though, all at once it seemed. "Agni, Rudra, don't you idiots dare!" Dante snarled beside me.

"Nero, don't do anything rash," Sparda said in a weak plea.

"Let him Trigger," Vergil said. "He can wear himself out."

Swords seemed to manifest in Nero's hands, curious weapons the likes of which I'd never seen. Alongside them came rivulets of light in blue and red hues flowing around him. The ink seemed to bleed from his hair, and crystalline white shone alongside the red of his eyes, redder than any pigment or blood. Someone- No, something appeared at his back - a demon or phantom. I couldn't say which. I could see so little of it before Nero took a step and cut the air with one of his swords.

A whirlwind of broiling heat tore through the room, bringing with it a trail of fire. It was as though a dragon had stormed into the room. All I could do was duck away and hope for the best.

"Was it like this before?" I heard Sparda yell over the roaring winds.

"No," Vergil answered. "It was nothing like this."

When the winds eased enough that I could look up, I found the room destroyed, patches of fire burning anywhere they could grab hold along the shelves and stone. "I'd underestimated him," Agnus said, his smirk giving way to a grin. "He wields Devil Arms well. Seems I was closer to success than I thought."

Dante spun on him once again with a growl. "Alright, enough of-"

As though some spell had been cast, they all froze. Even Nero stopped his staggering advance. Besides the crackling of the fire, the room fell to silence, yet Dante, Vergil, Sparda, and even my dead-eyed prince all turned as though a song pulled their attention toward the horrid steel maw on the floor.

Vergil spoke first, his tone thin and biting like frost. "You said it was sealed."

"The seal is…" Sparda's eyes flooded with some horror that I couldn't understand, but when he turned to look at Nero, I felt my expression mirroring the king's.

With an ear-splitting crack, the spell shattered. Our distractions had allowed Angus to slip away toward a lever engrained in the wall. Chains sang as they rose and fell within the walls. Gears ground and groaned under our feet, making the whole room quake so much that I struggled to keep my footing.

When Nero staggered, his hands clutched at his head. Something was wrong. Something was hurting him, and I needed to get to him. Just as I took a step, he slashed both swords again, and a wall of fire consumed my vision.

Nothing hurt, but I heard a hiss in front of me. "He did say he was going to burn my coat. Damn, kid."

Peering out from the useless shield of my arms, I found Dante facing me and dusting at his shoulders to smother smoking embers. I hoped he wasn't expecting any thanks because I would give him none; instead, I pushed past him to see where Nero stood. Breaths rattled Nero's shoulders like death had come to claim him. Nothing in his eyes looked like him. Nothing in his eyes looked human.

"Nero!" I called, desperate to pull him back. "You must stop! The castle will burn at this rate."

Even his voice was not his own. "Then let it burn," he growled as the floor opened to an endless void in front of him. In a swarm, something poured out of the depths below, a wall that shielded Nero from my view. Some of them were the Order's armor. I knew it too well to comprehend it as anything else, yet it flew. As did the swords which shimmered in a brilliant show of light like Nero's arm. More like a warning than a beacon.

"What are these things?" I asked as I readied my sword and my stance. I was not sure that either would do me much good.

"I was hoping you'd know," Dante said. Though I expected a smirk, he wore none. "But if I had to guess, I'd say they're a fight."

"How astute," Vergil drawled. I looked toward him just in time to catch a flick of his small blade shattering one of the armor sets as though it were ceramic. The inside held nothing.

"Artificial demons." Sparda's tone was darker than I'd ever heard it. "Agnus, did you create these?"

Dante took care of one of the swords that flew toward us, flicking its away with a clean sweep of his blade. Though I managed a similar parry against a lance one of the armor sets held, my strike clashed against the plating in a useless attempt. I'd fought plenty of demons in my time, but those tended to have something that could be pierced or shredded. Even the usual cracks in Order armor did me little good when nothing inside could bleed.

Agnus sounded far too pleased with himself about the whole thing. "Call them a happy accident, I suppose. I stumbled across a means of binding demons to objects during one of my many attempts to create the prince. These make far superior soldiers, actually. It's taken two decades, but I've almost perfected them now. You'll make for some fitting test subjects."

"Create the prince?" I echoed under my breath. I didn't have enough air to ask any louder, forced to duck and jump away from an endless flurry of incoming strikes. There were too many of the damned things.

When I chanced a glance, I realized that my worry for Nero was unfounded. He tore into the demons with such ease that shards of the metal rained around him. I seemed to be the only one struggling with the demons, leaving me with no option but to focus on keeping myself alive.

My relief over Nero lasted half a second before a ringing resounded through their air, such a pure, unending note that it could have been a song. Dante spat a curse.

"Enough, boy," Vergil said. "Keep this up, and I'll pin you with your own blades."

Another moment's glance, and I found Nero's swords locked with Vergil's, the thinner blade braced in defense. All the demons must have looked the same to Nero, and I didn't trust that one not to cut him in half. Blind to reason, Nero reared back for another strike, only to catch a different sword. I hadn't realized that Dante was no longer at my back until I saw him across the room between the other two princes. His hair shone as white as Nero's.

Being alone left me at a greater disadvantage, but one I could accept if it meant that Dante could keep his brother from harming my charge. Though I couldn't focus on them while trying to keep myself alive, I could hear Dante's desperation. "Kid, stop. You've got to calm down. I don't want to hurt you."

"He'll survive," Vergil said.

"That's not- Nero, stop!"

"Boys, try to get away from him for now," Sparda said. "He'll only attack you if he sees you as a danger."

With a quick glance, it became clear that Nero heard nothing they said. His eyes held only that empty, blinding red. I had no plan, nothing that I thought might get through to him, yet as I wrenched away from another attack, I threw myself into a stumbling run. I had to get past the demons, around the gap in the floor, and back to him. The king's knight was always to remain at his king's side, even at the worst of times. At the very least, I could do that.

Another burst of flames tried to stop me, and it would have if not for a responding rush of ice. I could only imagine it to be some type of magic as trails of ice crystals like pointed towers coated the walls and floor. The flames hissed at the contact, sending a thick layer of steam into the air that left me blind.

I didn't see the armor barreling toward me until its lance was a breath away from my throat. No human could have kicked it into the wall the way the strange blonde did when she too appeared from the mist. When the armor tried to pull itself upright, she slammed her heel against it.

The ice must have stemmed from whatever artifact she held. Frost coated her hands from gripping it, yet she showed no reaction and wore so little that she should have been cold regardless.

"You should keep all your dogs leashed, Your Majesty," she called. "Or do you wish to see this town razed?"

"I don't wish to leave the boy defenseless in this," Sparda answered.

"If you can't defend him yourself, just have the dogs do it separate from him. Letting him keep a weapon is foolish."

"What are you even doing here?" Vergil demanded.

"Now isn't the time for questions." With a sigh, she lowered her voice. "And here I thought they could handle this themselves."

When she bothered to acknowledge my presence, it was only with a glance and a wave of her hand which suggested I should continue on. Though I remained stunned with confusion, she was right. I could ask later.

Somewhere in the fog, I heard the sure crack of a crossbow firing. Lady, perhaps, but visibility stopped within three paces. I just had to hope they weren't firing at me.

The last I'd seen, Nero was at the pit's edge, and though I wanted to be as far from it as possible, I hugged its side in search of him.

I saw the glow of his arm and the daunting apparition before anything else. Then Sparda with his loud purple coat. His sword was held firm at Nero's side, blocking a lance that Nero didn't seem to see. Red eyes locked on Sparda, Nero had one sword buried in the king's side. The strike would have killed a human, halfway to cleaving him in two.

"Dad, what did you do?" Dante called from somewhere. Something like concern tinted his voice.

"It reeks of your blood," Vergil added. The matching tone didn't fit him.

"It's fine," Sparda answered. "Stay where you are for now. Clear out the demons."

I couldn't tell if Sparda's narrowed eyes were from pain or frustration. With a flick of his hand that could have been a conductor with a baton, he cut the armor down. His free hand locked onto Nero's wrist, keeping the sword jammed in his side.

"Agni, Rudra," he said, his tone as daunting and deep as any good ruler's. "Nero is not fit to serve right now. You will return to form and protect him that way."

In a flash of blue light, one of the strange demon children appeared from nothing. No, not nothing. I understood when I saw Nero's wide gaze look to his now-empty hand.

"Sorry, Master," the child mumbled as he tore the other sword from Nero's grasp with ease, and consequently, from Sparda's side. A rush of blood followed, coating the small demon's hands. "You said to help him, so we were trying to help."

"It's fine," Sparda said again, holding tight to his side. It looked anything but fine. "Destroy the last of those artificial demons for me."

Nero took a slow step back as he searched his hands for the weapons he'd lost. The phantom at his back began to dissipate into the mist. "Little prince," Sparda sighed. "You must come back to yourself. I know this is easier than whatever else you face in your head, but I fear you will do something you will truly regret."

Just like the others, Nero showed no signs of hearing him. A ragged growl tore up Nero's throat, and his demonic hand shot out to the side as though he could take his weapons back from the air.

Except, he did.

A hollow snap rang through the air, the sort of sound that could have only come from one source, one that made my stomach churn. Dante called his brother's name with such shock that I didn't need to look to confirm what had happened when Vergil's sword appeared in Nero's hand.

Despite all reason telling me otherwise, I looked anyway. The mist had thinned enough that I could see Vergil as a wobbling outline. Even with his hazy shape, I could see that his arm was bent wrong. His form flashed into something that I couldn't make any sense of, so I looked back to Nero again.

His phantom reappeared, different from before. It stood a ghostly, pale blue. Sparda's fist curled and uncurled as he let out a slow, sharp breath. When he spoke, I understood the true voice of a demon for the first time. "I've killed for less," he said, his words like ice through my veins. "Nero. Enough."

Ever deaf, Nero swung the thin blade, sending out a slash that dug a trench into the ground, wall, and a couple unfortunate demons. Sparda was not one of them, as he slid one foot back and stepped out of the path of the strike. The blood drained from my face as he raised his blade.

Unlike the others, I couldn't have survived a direct attack from Nero. But if Nero were to attack me, then perhaps there was truly nothing left of him. Or perhaps that was what I deserved. For all the pain and lies I'd given him.

Either way, I wouldn't have wanted to live to see him consumed by his demonic side. If I died trying to bring him back, so be it.

"Credo?" Sparda barked as I wrenched myself between them. Closing my hand around the wrist of Nero's demon arm, I tried to lock my eyes with his, tried to find something of him in their depths.

"My prince, it's done," I said. "We can go. You'll never have to come back here again. I'll take you anywhere else, anywhere you want to go, as far from here as possible. I swear. Please, my prince, I cannot lose you too."

At some point, the sword's edge had found my neck. I could feel a dark, hungry power from it like a clawing beast in a cage, but it did not strike me.

Nero's empty eyes brimmed with tears.

Just like all those years before. A poor terrified child I'd locked away in lost memories. It was no wonder he fought.

Sparda was still behind me with his sword halfway up. His eyes were caught between surprise and concern. "Your Majesty, please move back," I said, hoping he could read the desperation in my gaze. "I think being near so many demons made him worse."

With a nod, he took slow, retreating steps without ever letting us out of his sight. When I turned back to Nero, I found his clouded eyes on mine once again. He seemed to be searching for something.

"You can drop the sword, Nero," I said. "We'll take care of things from here."

As soon as it clattered to the ground between us, the red in his eyes faded to a tired blue. The phantom vanished as well.

I heard something like a whistle, a call for a dog almost. Then yelling.

One of the living demon swords appeared at the edge of my vision. I couldn't react in time. I could only tighten my grip on Nero's wrist as I watched the sword tear through him like a needle through fabric.

He gave a soft, breathless cry of pain as the force of it threw him over the edge of the black void cut into the ground. Refusing to let go of him and unable to grab hold of anything else, I slipped into the darkness after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wheeeee  
> Off they go.


	15. To Mend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter should be the last one, I whisper to myself for the second time.

The weird demonic swords and armor burst into lights when we broke them. I guessed that was them dying, if they'd ever been alive, the firefly-like beams drifting off to wherever fake demon spirits go.

So I should have known that the sword lying on the ground was still active, even if its runes didn't glow like those of the others flying around. I should have known. I did know, but I was a little too preoccupied with keeping the last of the things off Vergil while his arm snapped back into place.

Like when Nero had Triggered, the ink burned out of Vergil's hair with every flash of his devil form threatening to take over and tear the kid to pieces. Trying to talk him out of it would have been useless, so I tensed in preparation to intercept. Even without his sword, Vergil could be trouble in a fight. No matter how little I wanted him trying to rip out my throat, I wanted him riling up the kid even less.

Credo was finally getting through to Nero, the fog clearing.

Clear enough to see that odd, prone sword jump up. I'm not sure what I yelled, a warning maybe. My thoughts couldn't line up fast enough to think of what I was saying. Whatever it was, it did nothing. The blade ripped through Nero's side at just enough of angle not to cleave him in half.

I was running before he started to fall, but there was nothing I could do. He seemed to fall so slowly, yet my legs moved just as slow. The room felt deafeningly silent until Yamato flew past my ear, nearly taking it off.

"Damned boy," Vergil said as another blade whipped by, one of the phantom blue ones. Narrowly missing Credo, it jammed into the inner wall of the pit, and with a crackle of blue light, Vergil appeared in its place.

"Wait-wait-wait!" I felt myself yelling as he slipped out of view as well. He couldn't just fall too. That didn't get me anything but closer to a panic attack.

My Trigger slammed into me like lightning through my veins. I didn't feel myself summon it, didn't know I'd had the energy to still use it, but judging by the way my muscles ripped apart with each stride, I didn't.

It lasted only until I barreled over the pit's edge. My shoulder caught the opposite wall before I was bounced back toward the empty grasp of nothingness. I caught a glance of Vergil below me, so I flailed my arms until a scrap of something brushed against my hand. Crushing the fabric in my grasp, I felt a moment's swell of victory; then I remembered I had no way to grab ahold of anything else. We were just all going to fall together.

Alright, not my best plan.

Too much happened at once after that, like everyone had turned to yell at me at the same time. Something tried to break my ankle and rip off my leg just before Vergil's coat tried to tear out of my grasp. I had to shoot out my other hand to regain my grip, and that made him hiss in pain or annoyance, but a weird pop drowned him out. He was damn heavy all of the sudden.

The tail of my coat drifted down and hung around my head, making me realize that I was upside down. We weren't moving anymore, though, so that was… good.

Looking down - or up - I found Dad with one hand locked around my ankle and the other latched to the edge of the pit. "Everyone okay?" he asked through gritted teeth. Agni and Rudra were shadows at the top of the pit, trying and failing to pull Dad up.

"Doing great," I said.

Vergil gave some sort of growl that sounded like a yes to me.

An echoing whine came from below him. "Alright," Credo said so weak and airy that there was no way he was telling the truth.

"The boy doesn't appear to be in good condition," Vergil said, "but Credo has a hold of him."

That was as good as I could have hoped for at that point. The angle didn't give me much of a view past Vergil, but I could see something below us. Red, glowing yet dark. Swirls of the strange light rose from below us like tendrils from some ocean abyss. Though I could see well in low light, I couldn't find the bottom of the pit.

As the red threads drew closer, runes of the same light bled up the walls like a spiderweb of cracks. "Dad," I called, "maybe go ahead and pull us up. As much as I love hanging here, I'm not a fan of the light show."

Maybe it was all the blood rushing to my head, but the air seemed to be pressing down on me with a growing smell of sulfur and rot. My ears were buzzing with a mind-numbing thrum.

"Yes, I'm working on it," Dad said. "The gate won't harm us. I believe it's just reacting to Nero, but give me a moment. I'll just…" His grip tightened with a tug against my leg. The shift swung us all a fraction, allowing me to catch a glimpse of the kid.

More than anything else, I could see his arm dangling off toward the abyss. Instead of blue, it glowed the same red as the threads reaching up to coil around it, as though trying to pull him away. I wanted to snap at Dad to hurry up, that there was no such thing as harmless Hellgate, but Vergil snapped at him first. "Father, is there not another way to do this?"

Taking my focus off the pale kid, I realized that we were swinging like a pendulum chained together with tired grips. "Wait," I said as I realized Dad's intent. "Hang on, don't you have wings? Can't you just-?"

"Boys," he yelled up to Agni and Rudra. "Catch!"

As he tossed me upward, I decided that I had a new policy against my feet leaving the ground. The walls of the pit fell away, revealing the dim chamber once again as I tried to twist my feet beneath me. I would have succeeded had Vergil not kicked me in the gut, forcing me to let go of him. The ground smashed into my back, Rebellion crushed against my spine. "Ow," I wheezed when I managed to regain some air.

Trish appeared over me, amusement tugging at her lips. "That looked fun," she said.

"Oh yeah, just a blast." Rolling to my feet, I found Vergil already on his. He scowled at our father as Dad pulled himself up from the pit.

"Really?" Vergil drawled.

"You were all much too heavy to pull up," Dad said. "It was the quickest way."

Vergil had clearly let go of Credo because the poor bastard was lying on his side across the room, his eyes weary and dazed from pain. I guessed that had something to do with his right arm looking like it had tried to detach, hanging at an odd slope from his shoulder. Looked like Vergil had taken out his revenge on the wrong person.

Nero still looked like a goddamn corpse, but he hadn't hit the floor. Agni and Rudra both held him in their arms while barking at each other. "I caught him. You were supposed to get someone else."

"No, I caught him! You should have gotten someone else."

"They're useful as ever," Trish said.

I wasn't sure she had any room to talk since she'd just watched me hit the ground, but I had a feeling that saying anything would earn me more pain than it was worth. I had enough aches already. I didn't need more. "When we get out of here, I'm going to sleep for a week," I said.

Overusing my devil side left me a limping, sore mess, but I didn't have any room to complain when the kid still had a sword through him. All that assured me that he was still breathing was the anguish that pinched his expression.

I hadn't forgotten about Agnus. He must have hoped we all would so that he could slip out the door without notice, but he was still stuck in front of it, caught between Lady's crossbow and one of Kyrie's knives. Lady's permanent expression was anger, but I would never have imagined seeing such rage in Kyrie's eyes. In understood her fury, though. After I made sure Nero survived, I was going to end that alchemist bastard.

Dad reached the kid before I did. "My apologies," he said as he placed his hands on the sides of the blade. "This will hurt." I didn't see Dad move, yet the blade shattered to pieces and burned away in those flares of light. As Nero's closed eyes twitched, a swell of blood poured from his mouth and the wound. He wasn't healing.

"You shouldn't use up your Trigger so readily, Little Prince," Dad said in little more than a whisper as he raised his hand. "But I suppose I would have needed to redo the seal regardless." The dark threads swelled up from the pit like a wave that crashed down around Dad's awaiting hand. He pressed the unsettling power to the wound, and with an agonized gasp, Nero tore back from death's razor edge. When Dad pulled his hand away, the wound was sealed with the same red hide that covered Nero's arm.

"He is okay," Agni and Rudra chimed. "All fixed. Very good, Your Majesty."

I wasn't sure it was quite so simple. Nero still looked like death, so pale that the dark swaths under his eyes were the only color to his face. Agni and Rudra were too small to do anything but hoist the kid up a bit, so Dad pulled Nero into his arms despite the chorus of whines from the little demons.

Nero's eyes were slits so thin that I didn't realize that they were open until he grumbled, "Stop carrying me."

"Very well," Dad said. Turning heel to me, he dropped the kid into my arms. "There you are. Look after him, would you?"

Part of me flashed with fury, knowing he'd tied up my arms just so I couldn't go rip Agnus apart, but I couldn't be too mad when Nero gave a growl as he looked up at me. "Not you."

"Your only other option right now is Vergil, and I don't think you want to go near him."

Vergil shrugged in an attempt to show indifference. I had a feeling his pride was hurt more than anything. Yamato was his sword, the only weapon he cared to use, and it had been torn away by some greater power. I'd felt the pull trying to take Rebellion away too, but Nero must have liked the dark tug of Yamato a bit more when he was losing his damn mind.

Striding over to Credo, Dad helped the struggling man find his feet again before snapping his arm back into socket. Credo's hiss of pain turned into a sigh of, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Dad said too sincerely. "That leaves one more issue then." The calm kindness of his expression seemed to fall away like a mask as he turned on Agnus. I'd seen plenty of powerful demons in my time, and they always looked down on everyone with haughty contempt, like we were all bugs under their feet. I'd never seen Dad wear that expression until he stared down Agnus at that moment.

"I do not want an explanation, only clarification," Dad said, a rasp of fire in his voice. "Do not talk more than necessary. I have no patience for you."

After a dozen blinks, Agnus managed a shaky nod.

"You used the power of the seal, my power, and you impressed it upon this boy. Am I correct?"

Dad's claim sounded like nonsense to me even after Agnus stuttered out a confirmation. I would have believed that Dad had slept around before I would have ever considered something like that as an option. Humans couldn't control demonic power, and they certainly couldn't contain that much of it within themselves. Seals sapped a great deal of Dad's strength. I'd seen him create one before, and he was so weakened afterward that he just lay in the grass for hours while Vergil and I whined about being bored.

I looked down at the kid to see his reaction, but I wasn't sure if he even heard what was going on. His head was resting against my arm, and he was watching his clawed fingers curl and uncurl as his arm rested across his stomach.

"Then," Dad continued, "you took advantage of the weakened seal to pull demon souls through and bind them to those objects, yes?"

"Well, I had to use a conduit that would allow for proper stabilization-"

A shift of Kyrie's knife shut him up long enough for him to notice Dad's tapping foot. "Yes," Agnus spat.

"That was foolish," Dad said. "I'll have to reset the seal now. Weak as it is in its current state, a powerful demon could easily break through, and that would mean the end of this city. You think you can control demons just because you were able to command those weaklings? You know nothing."

"Hang on," I said. "You can't just skim over all the stuff about the kid because you understand what's going on." Dad raised a brow but didn't interrupt as I took my turn at questioning the alchemist. "Wasn't Nero a little kid when you turned him demonic? How would he have possibly survived that much demonic energy?"

Agnus smirked through his contempt. "Nero was born demonic. You're correct to say that children wouldn't survive. None of them did, so I had to change tactics."

If I hadn't been holding Nero, I wouldn't have had the strength to finish listening to his explanation. Kyrie was so horrified that she took a step back from him, but Lady reaffirmed her grip on her bow with a snarl.

Agnus kept on with that same smile. "Even strong men were often overcome when attempting to bond with demonic power, but I learned that the best way to ensure success was to impress a very small amount of it on a child still developing. Of course, then the mothers were the trouble, dying off before the child could be born." He shook his head and gave a sigh of disappointment, as though he were talking about any banal thing and not human life, the sick bastard. "The only thing special about Nero was that he managed to survive past his mother's death. Once I thought he would be stable enough to survive it, I began trying to give him greater power, but Credo put an end to that. A tragedy, really. He could have been-"

"Enough," Credo said. His voice sounded calm, but it was clear from the storm in his eyes that he was anything but.

Nero remained quiet in my arms, his gaze heavy and empty, but I felt a pull as his claws curled into my shirt. He seemed to press himself closer. I found myself wishing that the pain had knocked him out a long time ago.

Credo staggered over to his fallen sword. It scraped across the ground with a screech as he dragged it up to his side. "I have three final questions for you," he said as he stepped toward Agnus. "Answer them wisely if you want a chance of surviving any minute more."

Though Agnus tried to keep his scowl, I could see the coward trembling. "What?"

"One, who were Nero's parents?"

"How should I know?" Agnus scoffed. He certainly wasn't going to earn himself any favors. "I'm sure his mother was some whore like the others."

Credo brought the tip of his sword to Agnus's throat, and the alchemist's anger vanished, his lip quivering. Kyrie and Lady took it as a sign to step back.

"Two," Credo continued, his voice louder. "Will all of that damned power you gave Nero overwhelm him in time?"

"I cannot say for sure. The experiment isn't over."

I could see the way Credo's jaw clenched as he fought to keep his calm, so I gave him a proper answer for my own satisfaction against Agnus. "The kid is unstable, but he's not anywhere near beyond help."

"He can learn to control it," Vergil added, startling me. "He will have to work for it, and he will never not be dangerous, but I do not believe his demonic side has a greater will than his own."

"He shares our power to a degree," Dad said with a hint of a smile. "That makes him one of mine, and I would never allow one of my own anything that he could not sustain."

Nero gave a soft sigh that Credo echoed. The relief on the man's face lasted only until he turned on Agnus once more. "Three, where are the royal family's rings?"

"His Holiness keeps them, somewhere in his study I believe. He wouldn't tell me something like that. Why are you asking me?"

"Fair enough," Credo said. The tip of his sword drifted down a fraction before he rammed it through Agnus's chest. Surprise widened my eyes until Credo hissed, "Did you really think I would ever consider letting you leave here alive?" Agnus couldn't respond, struggling for air as he gargled his blood. When Credo tore his sword free, Agnus dropped to the floor. The light faded from his eyes within moments.

"Perhaps it is unfair of me to take this vengeance from Nero," Credo said as he flicked the gore from his blade in disgust, "but I will not let your cowardly blood stain his hands."

I might have applauded him had my hands not been full. Nero gave another sigh, and I glanced down to find a weak smile on his lips.

* * *

Perhaps we could have learned more from the alchemist, but I couldn't bring myself to mind his death. Even Credo looked content, and my brother didn't appear angry to have lost his kill. Rather, he looked far too happy about the boy in his arms.

I was still debating how I would return the favor of having my arm broken. I would have to wait until the boy was more lucid. He was lucky it had mended without needing to be rebroken, or I wouldn't have been able to catch him and his guard as they fell.

"How is your arm?" Father asked as though reading my thoughts. His expression was far too pleasant for someone who'd just witnessed a murder.

"Fine. Were you really aiming to kill the boy for it?"

That did trouble him, his eyes darting to their corners in shame. "I would not have killed him, no, but I would certainly have injured him."

"I'll fight my own battles, Father," I said as I stepped past him.

"I'm certain you can, but anything that involves you or your brother becomes a battle of mine. I'm afraid you cannot dissuade me on that matter."

No, of course not, and I wasn't going to try. Even with him behind me, I could feel him grinning at my lack of response. He didn't need to brag.

Credo was dealing with his own nuisance - my brother. "Must you hold him like that?" Credo said as he stalked toward Dante.

"What? It doesn't bother you, does it?" Dante crooned, curling Nero closer to himself. "I wasn't going to just leave him on the ground."

The movement roused Nero enough that he opened his eyes just to glare at his captor. Credo matched the expression until he gave up with a sigh and threaded his fingers through Nero's hair before gently knocking their foreheads together. "We'll go get your rings now," Credo said as he pulled away. "We've spent far too much time here."

Nero could not meet his gaze, eyes locked on his fidgeting hands. "I'm sorry," he said. Though I'd heard him apologize before, I still found it unnatural. His weakness and weariness made him seem like a child. Credo did have a habit of treating him as one.

"There's no need to dwell on it," Credo said. "You're back to yourself now, and we'll make sure something like that doesn't happen again."

Shrinking back from his guard, Nero's voice thinned. "No, I'm sorry… sorry I took the throne from you."

Credo's eyes bled to emptiness, and I felt surprise cross my features for an instant. The boy knew. He knew and he was...apologizing for it. For someone so straightforward, I could never seem to get a handle on him.

"I'm so sorry," he continued in a whisper. His eyelids fell against his every attempt to hold them open. "I took everything from you. You should have told me. If I'd known-"

"You hush!" Kyrie cried as she stormed over, waving her knife like an extension of her wagging finger. "Don't you try to take the blame. No pity parties allowed. I'm tired of it. Everyone is okay, so we're going to stop moping now."

Her argument managed to drag a smile out of Credo. "It's not your fault," he said to Nero. "Please don't ever think that it is. Do not feel guilty for something that was never in your control. Perhaps I should have told you to save you this worry. I'll explain properly later. Just rest for now. We will take care of things from here."

"Alright, but we're going to have a talk about all this." Whether convinced or worn out, Nero compiled and let himself slump into some form of sleep.

Just to ensure that this trip couldn't reach any lower point, Trish made herself known again, peering around Dante's shoulder. "You've exhausted poor thing," she said. "Tell me, Your Majesty, if his power is that of the seal, couldn't you use him to reset it without straining yourself?"

Father jolted at my side as though he'd been struck. "Absolutely not. That would kill him. You should know that."

"You think so?" She hummed with curiosity. "It was just a thought. I was wondering if you might be able to take some his demonic energy away since it troubles him so much."

"Who is this woman?" Credo asked.

"Oh, this is Trish," Dante said with a smile, as though we were all supposed to be friends. "Trish, this is Credo. He's Nero's guard dog."

"No, that is us!" one of the obnoxious twins cried. I wondered if they realized what a low status they'd given themselves.

"And I'm Kyrie," the girl said with a curtsey of what was left from the skirt of her dress. It seemed she'd cut part of it off. "Nice to meet you, Trish."

"A pleasure."

Paying them no mind, Credo's eyes narrowed more the longer he looked at Trish. "Oh," he said to her smirk. "You're the rat, aren't you? I thought you looked familiar. Sanctus mentioned you."

Her smile only grew at the accusation, and a twinge of annoyance clawed at my chest. For someone who'd never given us any useful info, she'd gotten found out rather quickly. The only positive to using her as a spy was that it had gotten her away from the castle at times. Perhaps that was why Father let her take the role.

"You have more important things to concern yourself with right now than me," she said. "There happen to be some guards out in the main room who are rather upset about us being here."

For once in her life, she was trying to divert attention away from herself. She must have done something that would draw our ire.

"That's unfortunate," Father said. "Then we've been found out. I suppose we have been rather loud."

"But what's holding them back?" I asked. "Are they waiting for us to come out?"

Cerberus appeared in her hand as she twirled the weapon. "They're a bit stuck at the moment. I also put up a wall of ice to keep any stragglers from coming through. I thought best to hold them back until we took care of the more pressing issue."

"All these disloyal dogs," Dante muttered as his eyes flicked to Cerberus. He could never keep his weapons to himself.

"Can you really complain about disloyalty when you're holding someone who's tried to kill all of us?" I asked.

When he broke into a grin, I braced myself for something stupid. I was still not prepared.

"You've stabbed me and Dad before too, and we still love you."

"Ugh." Enough of that. I sought a change of topic. "What are we going to do about these guards? We won't endear ourselves to anyone by fighting them."

"How many of them are there?" Credo asked. "I don't wish to spill any blood." It seemed Agnus no longer counted.

Trish's head listed to the side. "Oh, I'd say ten. I suppose they were only expecting to deal with two intruders so that must have seemed like enough."

"Two?" Credo echoed.

Pretending not to hear him, Trish took to examining her nails. A scowl sank into my expression as I came to understand her meaning. The guards were here for Nero, not the rest of us. They may not have even realized that we'd broken in, but Trish must have let them onto Nero's trail. She was likely the one to lead him here as well. Nothing good came of her.

Dante broke the silence with a sigh. "Well, I don't want to have to kill anybody. Maybe they'll think better of fighting all of us." Despite his calm tone, his gaze was sharp as it cut toward his retainer. He must have realized her err as well.

If Father noticed as well, he gave no indication. "I must fix the seal before I do anything else, so I cannot join you for the moment," he said. "Credo, these men are under your command, correct? Perhaps you can dissuade them."

"Technically, yes," Credo said, "but if they're under orders from Sanctus, it would be a challenge. They're far more loyal to him than me, and not unfairly so. I've never been much of a general to them. My duty has always been to serve the prince. Still, I'd be willing to try anything to avoid a fight." His shoulders sank. "I'm exhausted."

Though I wouldn't have said it aloud, I had to agree with him. The hectic fight and having to heal had worn me thin. My eyes stung with growing weariness.

Trying to convince the guards that we, tired and damaged intruders who had trapped them in ice, were actually in the right would have been near-insurmountable, but we had two trump cards to make up for it. One was the boy, of course, if we could rouse him enough to have him introduce himself as their divine prince. The other was simpler.

"You should reveal your status," I said to Credo, whose eyes went wide at the notion. "You have the proof. Retrieve the paintings."

Credo couldn't seem to comprehend the notion, shaking his head as his eyes darted along to the hectic rhythm his thoughts. "Are you insane?" he managed. "They would never believe me, and even if they did, that could place me back in line for the throne."

"And wouldn't that be better?" I asked.

I must have flipped the world upside-down for the confusion that settled on his face.

"Surely you've noticed that Nero doesn't want the throne," I continued, "and he shouldn't have it. The idea terrifies him, and he has had no proper training for the role. If we go through with this, he will be king by tomorrow. Stress and anger set him off so easily, and he will have that in spades as king. Even ignoring his inability to control his demonic tendencies, he knows nothing of diplomacy or tax or law. You may not know much more, but of the two of you, you're far more clear-headed. Do not delude yourself, Credo, you would make the better king."

Credo placed a hand to his head as though that could hold him together. "I gave up the throne twenty years ago. I promised it to Nero. I swore. I cannot take that from him too."

"He told me that all he's ever done is fight," I said. "That's all he knows how to do. If you care for the sake of your country at all, you will have him present you as the true king. The people will believe the word of their false god. And then we do get our miracle ending. The prodigal son returns." With a princess as a possible bonus, though that was up to Kyrie and would be a more difficult sell.

For all the stress I'd given Credo, it was nothing compared to the way he flinched against Nero's sudden intrusion. "He's right," the boy said, his voice still so thin that it might break at any moment. Though his gaze remained heavy with the pull of sleep, he was able to keep his eyes open. It seemed he'd never been unconscious. "I would be a terrible king. I don't know anything. I've only ever talked to a handful of people. All I'm good at is killing things, even when I don't want to." A forced smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he flexed his demonic hand. "If you don't want to be king, Credo, I won't make you, but you would be better at it than I ever could be. Either way, I think I could convince the guards to back off."

A few breaths passed as Credo searched his charge for something that I couldn't find. Nero remained still, calm, and quiet. For some reason, I disliked seeing him that way. It pulled against my sense of reason. The boy was supposed to be trouble at all times.

"Do you want to be king?" Credo asked, finally breaking the discomforting silence.

"No," Nero said. "I don't think I've ever wanted it."

Credo gave a nod as he slipped off his rings. Holding them in one hand, he held up the other. "Give me your left," he said.

Nero moved as though in a dream, slow and distant. When his hand came to rest in Credo's, the guard slipped one ring onto Nero's first finger, one onto his third. "Then let this be your role for now," Credo said. "I will not force you to take any path. After tonight, you can be whomever you wish, but for now, be my knight, and I will be your king."

"I swear," Nero murmured. "Dante, you can put me down now."

"What?" Dante feigned a gasp. "You don't want me to carry you out to see them?"

"Shut up." Nero's ringed hand curled into a fist. "It would hurt a lot more now, so let me down."

"Kid, I'm pretty sure a baby could hit harder than you right now." Dante let the boy slide down to his unsteady feet. Though he kept a hand on Nero's arm long enough to ensure he wouldn't fall, Dante behaved himself for once and let go.

"Glor- Trish, do you still have my mask?" Nero asked.

"Oh, are we going to do a big reveal?" Her smile was as untrustworthy as ever, and the mask appeared between her fingers. Where she'd kept it hidden, I didn't want to know. "Should be fun."

Perhaps the boy was getting off easy by passing the throne off to another. I'd never had such an option. Yet, I believed Nero would have taken his place as king without hesitation had Credo, or perhaps even any of us, told him to do so. Even after he slipped the mask on, I could see guilt behind his eyes. That one moment of admission, of truth, had destroyed twenty years of work on all sides.

He shouldn't have felt guilty, though. The change was for the best.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've only mentioned this in comment replies so: Though I didn't end up writing a proper pairing into this fic, I'd like to do alternate endings/epilogues for any pairings that people might have wanted to see. By any pairing, I mean Nero is my fandom bicycle so I'll write him smooching any boy. I've had a few Dante/Nero requests, so I'll do one for that. Let me know if you want to see any others. The girls are all dating each other, so they can't be with the boys, sorry.


	16. And, Scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme of this chapter is wish fulfillment.  
> Wish fulfillment for the characters? No, wish fulfillment for me.

Convincing the guards would be a hard sell. Some liked me more than others, and Nero looked far from divine with heavy eyes and torn clothes. The mask did nothing to hide his state, but he would be more recognizable to them with it on than off.

The woman hadn’t lied about her curious weapon. A wall of ice split the room between us and the guards. Listening close, I could hear muffled bickering from the other side.

“You’re certain you wish to lead this?” I asked Nero as he placed his demonic hand on the wall and eyed it with interest.

“I think it’ll look best if I do the talking.” His claws clicked against the ice. “They were supposed to be my guard, so if I can’t get them to believe me, who can I convince? Besides, I’ve played this part for years. I can manage it one more time.” A smile flickered on his lips as he glanced at me. Despite his words, I could tell that he was anxious. He’d never commanded the knights before, never given a speech or orders of any kind.

“You’ll do great,” Kyrie said. After a great deal of bargaining, I’d allowed her to stand at Nero’s other side. I didn’t believe Nero knew of her status yet, but I would delay that issue until a later time. Nero had learned enough for one night.

“But hey, if anything goes wrong,” Dante called from the far wall, where his brother had forced them all to stay in order to remain out of sight, “I’ll be there in an instant, kid.”

“I know.” Nero did not look thrilled at the idea. “You’re too damn reliable. Now stay put.”

“You still owe me,” Vergil added. Unlike his words, his gaze was calm and unaccusing as he looked to Nero. “See to it that no one else harms you in the meantime.”

“Owe him for what?” Nero muttered.

Trish saved me from the added rush of anxiety by calling over as well. “I’ll add some special effects for you. Just go with it.”

Though I was certain I didn’t care for whatever she had planned, Nero gave a nod. I’d expected for her to use some of her unsettling magic to break down the ice, but Nero’s claws curled into a fist that shattered through a portion. The ice sang like wind chimes as it crashed to the ground around us.

Having already overexerted himself, Nero had to contain his haggard breaths as he stepped forward. I could see it in the quick rise and fall of his chest, but his face was as set as the mask over it.

“Holy Knights,” he said in a voice so sharp and commanding that I found myself straightening my shoulders on instinct. “Did Sanctus send you to kill me?”

As per the woman’s words, their feet were sealed to the ground with a coating of ice, clinging around their ankles and pooling around them like mud. They tossed wide-eyed glances at each other in a search for guidance or answers.

I recognized all of them but could only place names to a few. They were all trained soldiers sworn to fight for both the church and king. Our chances were up in the air.

Claude spoke up for the rest of them. Older and more experienced than the rest, I had a guess that he’d been put in charge of the squad. “We were warned of intruders, some demons wearing fake skins,” he said. He’d never much cared for me, which put a wrench in things when his gaze narrowed on me. “The prince and Credo are dead. You shouldn’t mock them by-”

“That was a lie,” Nero said. “Sanctus aimed to take the throne for himself, so he attempted to assassinate me. Multiple times. I guess this is his final attempt.”

“You expect me to believe you’re not demons when you’re both supposed to be dead, and your arm looks like that?” As Claude nodded toward the arm, I saw Nero’s fingers twitch. He must have wanted to hide it behind his back, as he always used to after I’d help him strip the armor away. Now, though, he had no choice but to raise his arm up for the knights to see in full.

“It’s not pretty,” he said. “But it’s the power of our god.” In some ways, he wasn’t lying. I saw no issue in lying to them, but most of what we had to say was at least half true.

“We chose to hide his arm to not unsettle the people,” I offered. “I am no demon, Claude. None of us are.”

“Why would His Holiness spread word of your deaths only to kill you later?” one of the younger men asked. “That doesn’t make any sense.” His name may have been Drew. I couldn’t recall for certain, but I knew him to be the sort who received punishment for stepping out of line often.

“He wasn’t aware that his earlier attempt had failed,” Nero said as he glanced to me for help, clearly guessing. He wasn’t right, but it was a good bluff.

“Did you see our bodies?” I asked.

“No, they said the whole fort burned.”

“Convenient that.” I wasn’t going to tell them that I had started the fire. That would only cause more trouble. “Sanctus wished to kill Nero and blame Capulet. That is the same reason he sent us into Capulet territory while knowing that Capulet’s prince took that route. He wanted for the prince to attack Nero and to blame Capulet for instigation.” A few of them had been with me for that trek, and I could see the spell of doubt taking hold in their troubled expressions.

“Nero?” Claude echoed.

I had to hold back a smile as I swept my hand up in gesture toward my new knight. “The one we’ve called Prince all this time. He does have a name.”

Nero’s ears burned a few shades darker under their renewed stares of curiosity as he pulled off his mask. “That’s right,” he said, still with a haughty tone that was ill-fitting but a good performance. He did struggle a bit with finding flashy words. “Sanctus...preemptively deemed me to be the next ruler but wanted only to use me as a pawn for his own gains, so he had the king and queen killed.”

“I’m confused,” one man sighed. “Are we going to believe all this?”

Everything together was tough to swallow, years of deceptions revealed by someone they’d never seen speak. Their anxious glances revealed that we were losing them.

“We know it’s a lot,” Kyrie piped in. She’d promised me that she wouldn’t draw attention to herself. “Trust us, it gets weirder, but if you’re willing to just listen and not attack us right away, Nero will take the ice from your feet.”

Nero blinked at the piercing stare she threw his way. “Y-yes,” he said. “I don’t want to have to hold you captive, but I also don’t want to fight you.”

“You’ve seen him fight before at the festivals,” I added. “You know you’d be at a disadvantage even with your numbers.”

“Very well,” Claude said. He was also aware that I could beat any of them in a fight, or at least, I would have been able to had I been less exhausted. I was glad none of them called my bluff. “But if I have any reason to suspect you’re a danger to us, I will not hesitate.”

Nero didn’t move. In fact, he looked as confused as the guard when the ice began to recede from their feet. It must have been the witch’s weapon, but when they were free, they all looked to Nero in amazement.

Convincing them was easier from there. They still didn’t like the truths we offered, especially not the paintings. Seeing the portraits out made my stomach twist. I’d always imagined the childhood shown in the painting belonging to someone else, not me. They were all skeptical of my position, of course, muttering amongst themselves until Claude spoke over them.

“Those are the king and queen,” he said. “Most of you were quite young when they died, but I was working as a squire for one of the duke’s knights, and I recall their appearance. I recall their son as well. I would never have matched him to you, Credo, and I must admit, I do not like to, but I can see the resemblance.”

The troublesome younger man, Drew maybe, turned to Nero but ducked when Nero returned the gaze. “Um, forgive me for asking,” the young man began grumbling, and I knew we’d convinced him. “But if you’re supposed to be divine, why did you let Sanctus get away with this for so long?”

Nero took a slow breath to disguise his thinking before he spoke. “I’m still human. I bleed when cut. I don’t know all or see all or any of that nonsense. Above all else, I’m here to protect Fortuna from demons. That’s the power my strength gives me. I thought Sanctus wanted what was best for Fortuna, but he had me fooled as well as everyone else. I wish I’d realized sooner, but now I can fight for Fortuna like I’m supposed to.” He held up his hand and the rings adorning it. They fit him well. “I’m not made to rule you. My power does you little good there. That’s Credo’s birthright, not mine.”

That was enough to win over Claude, and the rest fell into place behind their commander. “If you want what’s best for Fortuna and you bear the rings, I suppose it’s not my place to stop you,” he said. “What do you wish of us, General?”

Nero considered it for less than a second. “Let the people know that I’m alive and that anyone who was in on the plot against us should rethink their loyalties or face retribution.”

“We can inform the public of the rest at a later time,” I said. “I would not wish to confuse them with word-of-mouth.”

Kyrie hid a smile behind her hand. “I think they’ll be confused regardless.”

Pulling this off would take a great number of lies alongside the truth, but I had a feeling the people would be willing to believe anything that Nero had to say if there were no one to contradict him.

“You did well,” I said after he dismissed the guards.

Brushing his finger along the bridge of his nose, he breathed a laugh. “Keeping that voice up was obnoxious. I sounded like an ass. Can’t believe none of them tried to punch me.” His shoulders went slack, and he took a step back as though to catch his balance from a push. As his knees fell out from under him, Kyrie and I both grabbed him by an arm to keep him upright.

“Sorry,” he sighed. “I’m just tired.” I couldn’t imagine how he’d held himself up for so long in his condition. His eyelids sank, and his breaths grew deep and slow. “Can we go now?” he asked. “I don’t want to be down here anymore.”

“Of course, my prince.” I had promised him that.

“Not your prince anymore,” he grumbled.

I wasn’t going to argue then, but he was wrong. No matter what rings we wore, I would always be his knight, and he would be my prince. I was too accustomed to the roles to think any other way.

* * *

I hadn’t expected either of my sons to come check on me, so it was nice to find them both standing at my side as I lay prone beside the gate, my cheek against the cool stone floor.

“You exhaust yourself, yet you insist on keeping your human form,” Vergil said. “Why do you always expend the extra energy for that?”

“I like this one better,” I said.

“If we have to drag him out, this is easier than having to haul the oversized bug,” Dante said. “Think you’ll be able to walk, Dad? The kid wants us to get out of here. Time to go meet whoever this holy guy is.”

“Yes, if you’ll give me a moment, I can manage it,” I said. My limbs still wouldn’t budge, but I did manage to twitch my fingers. Progress.

“The gate is sealed properly this time, yes?” Vergil asked.

“It was sealed properly the first time.”

“Yet a human managed to break it.”

“Nothing is perfect,” I said with a sigh. “Nothing lasts forever.”

“But everything you do is amazing, Your Majesty,” Agni said with a smile as he popped into sight over me.

“Oh yes, I’m sure the seal is very good this time,” Rudra added, appearing alongside his brother.

At least someone believed in me. The two patted my back in odd, stiff movements. Comfort was a new concept for them.

“Hey, you two are still in trouble,” Dante said. His fists met the sides of their heads, pushing in and knocking their skulls together. They hunched down to escape his reach, clutching their heads and pouting.

“We did what we were told,” Agni said.

“His Majesty and Lady Trish said to help the other His Highness when he needed it,” Rudra added.

Vergil raised a brow. “You stabbed your ‘Majesty.’”

“That wasn’t me. That was Agni.”

“No fair!”

“Enough, boys,” I said. They might as well have all been children. “It’s fine.” My arms dragged up to push me to my knees. Progress was slow, every movement weighted like iron had filled my veins, but I managed to find my feet.

“Hey, Dad.” Dante wore a small frown and an inquisitive sharpness to his eyes that I knew not to like. “When you healed Nero, you used the old seal’s power, didn’t you? Did you give him more demonic power then?”

“Ah, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” Both boys glared at my smile. “It was just enough to heal him, very little, honestly. I didn’t think he would survive otherwise. If he can learn to control his power, he will make a wonderful general for his country, I think.”

I wouldn’t have thought anyone could survive being given such a strange form of my power, yet it had always been part of Nero, a piece of a much larger seal. Too much would have killed him, I knew, but I wondered if having a greater portion of the seal might help stabilize him. Time would tell. Still, I had high hopes for the little prince. He was as stubborn as my boys.

“We will see,” Vergil said. “Shall we go?”

“Let us. Just make sure that you don’t start any more trouble while I’m in no condition to aid you.” Standing or lying down was all I was good for at that point. Truthfully, my boys didn’t look much better off. Their appearances were disheveled messes of torn clothes, dirt, and flecks of dried blood. Each time they blinked, it lasted an instant too long, as though they had to fight to reopen their eyes against sleep’s pull.

“I don’t know that you were helping all that much before,” Dante said, always in the mood to joke at my expense.

“You would have taken quite a fall without me.”

Dante took one last glance over the ledge, squinting into the abyss below. “Is it that far to the bottom?” he asked.

I couldn’t help but break into a grin. ”It is-”

“Father, no.”

“-one _Hell_ of a fall.”

Vergil dropped his face into his hands with a groan, and Dante tossed his hands up with a huff of, “We’re not family anymore. I don’t know you.” His jokes were always terrible, so I could never understand why he disliked mine so much.

“Do not be cruel, my sons. I am weak and old.” That didn’t make my smile any less broad, though. They both stormed out, ignoring my calls for them to wait. My steps were so sluggish that Agni and Rudra would trot forward a few paces before stopping and looking back until I caught up. Each time I reached them, I would pat them both on the head just to see their eyes shine and their lips curl into mischievous smiles.

Nero was somehow worse off than I. Once again, he was being carried, this time against Credo’s back. I felt certain he had protested the accommodation, but his breaths came slow and easy as he rested his head against Credo’s shoulder. All fear and stress had eased from his expression as he slept. He was quite cute when he wasn’t trying to cut me in half.

“Do you need help carrying him?” I asked.

Yamato’s sheath swatted against my arm. “Father, no,” Vergil scolded, “you can barely carry yourself.”

“We can help!” Agni and Rudra chimed in unison.

With an irritable sigh, Credo started off toward the stairs. “I’ve got him, thank you.”

“Shoot, if it means I get to sleep, anyone is welcome to carry me,” Dante said. No one deigned to respond as we all headed for the ground floor, but once we reached it, Lady knocked her crossbow against his head.

“Whoops,” she drawled as Dante clutched a hand to his newest injury.

“Hey, you’re supposed to protect me from harm.”

“And you’re supposed to have a functioning brain, yet here we are.”

His retainers were the sort who would have left him where he’d fallen had he passed out. Though I wasn’t sure I could blame them, that wasn’t the mindset a retainer should have had in any case, but Dante had chosen them for himself. He had odd taste in allies.

“Back to the old man then,” Trish said as she stretched her arms out above her head. “Right back where we started.”

“Trish, you brought Nero here,” I said, the sharpness of distaste sinking into my tone. She wasn’t being subtle about it. She wanted us to know. “Why?”

She continued forward without looking back. The castle’s tall, empty halls echoed with her voice. “You left the prince alone and unstable in an anxious crowd, and you thought Lady and little Miss Kyrie would be enough to handle him if he lost control?” She clicked her tongue. “He was going to go off. It was just a matter of time. Better to have you lot around him than a hoard of humans. Besides.” She pranced up a few staircase steps before tilting her head back enough to show off her smile. “I wanted to see what would happen.”

Just because she was right didn’t make me like her any more, but I had to concede her point. We’d made a poor choice. Quite a few, actually.

I fit a smile on my face. “Well, I’m glad things worked out more-or-less.”

“We still need to deal with Sanctus,” Credo said.

“What is he going to do? Lecture us to death?” Kyrie asked, grinning, but her brother didn’t match her amusement.

“I’d be more concerned about him having more guards or a trap waiting for us.”

For all I’d heard of Sanctus, I found myself disappointed when we crowded into his office to find a frail old man sitting alone at his desk. His fingers were threaded together in front of him, and though he frowned at the sight of us, he showed no fear or surprise. “So you’ve sided with the Capulets,” he said as his gaze came to rest on Credo. “How unfortunate. I suppose you expect some alliance to form from this betrayal.”

Despite the little prince dozing against his back, Credo did an impressive job of appearing every bit the stern king he would need to become. “King Sparda has done more to ensure the safety of Fortuna’s people than you and the rest of the church ever did, and you know it. Had it not been for the treaties, we would have gone to war long ago.”

“We would have gained more from the war than we would have lost.”

“We would have gained _land_ ,” Credo spat. “We would have lost lives, but of course you wouldn’t care. People’s lives are nothing but tools to you. If you cooperate, I might allow you to live, but you will maintain none of your power. That’s better than you deserve.”

“Let him live?” Dante muttered. “Why?”

Always quick to educate his brother, Vergil answered in an equally low voice. “The man has his uses.”

“Perhaps, but I would not trust him to his word,” I said. Sanctus watched us as we spoke. Perhaps he heard us. I hoped he did. As I continued, I raised my voice to make certain. “Credo, he’s not worth wasting time on. I wasted enough trying to negotiate with him and his group over the years.”

Credo nodded. “Yes, and I’d rather like to get Nero to bed. He’s admittedly heavy.”

Sensing the two at my sides about to speak, I smacked my hands to the tops of Agni and Rudra’s heads to silence them. Both looked up at me with pitiful pouts

“Sanctus,” Credo continued. “I’ll have my rings now. Hand them over.”

“Your rings?” Though his tone remained soft, Sanctus’s smile was dark with malice. “You expect to take the throne after all this time? I see you’ve given the demon child the general’s set. I can’t imagine how you expect the people to accept you as a replacement for their farce of a prince. If you expect me to speak in favor of you, you are mistaken.”

“I do not need for you to speak for me. I do not even need you to tell me where the rings are. You think, even now, that you’ve won, but you have nothing.”

“I am far from the only one who caused your parents’ demise, and I am far from the only one who planned Nero’s death. This castle has many more rats.” He gestured to Trish with a lazy wave. “You and the boy will not last.”

As best he could with Nero collapsed against him, Credo shrugged. It was the first I’d seen him without a hint of stress pinching his expression. “If there is one worthwhile thing I learned from you, it is whom I can and cannot trust. Besides, not all of the rats work for you.”

Smiling as usual, Kyrie gave a wave that puzzled the old man’s brow. “My name is Kyrie,” she said. “We’ve never really been properly introduced. I’m one of the girls who works in the castle’s chapel. You complimented my singing once. Credo and I don’t look much alike, so I’m sure you would never have taken much notice of me, but I hear I look like my father.”

At this, Sanctus’s eyes widened. “So the child did survive.”

“You’re not very good at this whole murder planning thing,” Kyrie said. “For all your talk, you have more failures under your belt than successes.”

Sanctus regained his calm smile. “That you know of.”

Kyrie’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “I’ll give you one more opportunity to just give us the rings.”

“And if I do?”

“I’ll give you a quick death.”

“Kyrie,” Credo said as though scolding a child.

“Let me have this, Brother.”

Unable to best the determination burning in her eyes, Credo gave in with a sigh. “Very well. Do what you must.”

With a nod, she turned back to Sanctus and held out her hand. “The rings.”

“I have nothing for you,” he said.

“That’s fine. I don’t need anything from you.”

I didn’t care to kill humans. I thought it unfair for me to interfere with their lives when I was so far beyond their strength, and of course, once a demon began to kill humans, we craved more. That was dangerous. I wanted no part in it. But I would not go so far as to say that no humans deserved death. I saw no reason to involve myself in defending the lives of humans who did not value the lives of others.

Perhaps it was selfish of me to insist my sons play the same role as I did. Though after we’d learned everything from Agnus, I would no longer have stayed Dante’s hand. That man had not been human. Still, it was far more satisfying to see Credo end him. Demons loved to watch blood spill, and try as I might to smother my old instincts, sometimes I let them slip through.

I couldn’t help but smile when Kyrie’s knife came down through Sanctus’s right hand, pinning it to the table. “I don’t like to see suffering,” she said as he gasped through his whimpering. “But this is the least of what you deserve. That’s for taking my parents before I could meet them.”

Another knife slipped from her hand through the palm of his left. “That’s for taking my brother’s title.”

A third knife bit down into his shoulder. “That’s for taking mine.” Kyrie’s eyes held no regret, only a blaze of determination. Whatever Credo felt, he hid it well beneath a calm mask.

The fourth knife mirrored the last in his other shoulder. “That’s for everything you did to Nero.”

The fifth found his heart. “And that’s for whatever other crimes you’ve committed against this world, you bastard. I hope you burn.”

As she pulled a handkerchief from her person and wiped the blood from her hands, the man breathed his last with a whimper.

“Sorry about that,” she said with a sheepish smile.

The twin swords were bouncing on their toes on either side of me, not bothering to hide their enjoyment of the situation. Dante wasn’t much different. “Will I get in trouble if I applaud her?” he asked.

His brother’s eyes were dull with irritation. “Must you?”

“Well if it will annoy you, I definitely will.”

Credo heaved another sigh. “I suppose I have no room to talk, but let us not. The rings, then?”

“Oh, yes!” Kyrie chirped. Tip-toeing around the corpse without care, she tested a few desk drawers until one resisted her pull. After yanking a knife from one of Sanctus’s limp hands, she used it to pry the drawer open. “Like we needed him to tell us where they were,” she muttered. “Nowhere else to hide them in this dumb office.”

She popped upright with two ornate boxes in her hands before bounding over to her brother. Glee made her fidget like a child, but she was still quite young when I considered it. They all were.

Credo’s rings fit his fingers but appeared heavy, one decorated with his house crest and the other with the Order’s. “I’d always expected to see them on Nero,” he said. “It feels wrong to wear them.”

“They would have looked weird on the kid,” Dante said. “Too flashy.”

Credo couldn’t conceal his smile fast enough for me not to spot it. “I suppose you’re right.” His hand dropped back down to reaffirm his hold on Nero’s dangling leg. “He would have complained.”

“Should we get family rings?” I asked my sons. “I think that would be fun.”

Judging from Vergil’s dull expression, he did not agree. “Please don’t make me wear something god-awful, Father.”

“Maybe we should have, like, royal family belt buckles,” Dante said, wearing his usual grin for when he wished to irritate his brother. “How else will the people know, Vergil?”

“They will know! We don’t need to wear something hideous to make a point.”

“I’m leaving,” Lady muttered. “You all can hang out with the corpse and argue.”

Giggling, Kyrie followed her out the door, tailed by Credo and Trish.

“Do you think they’ll put us up for the night, or will we need to go back to the inn?” I asked, but my sons could not hear, still bickering as Dante’s smile grew wider and Vergil’s hand curled around Yamato’s grip. “My sons, can we not?”

I didn’t expect them to pay me any mind, and they did not. For all Vergil’s boasting, he was far too easy to provoke, and Dante was… Dante.

Fortuna was lucky that it had Credo to lead it. I was uncertain if Capulet would ever find a reasonable king.

“Well, I’m going to see where I can sleep for the night,” I called. “You two try not to make a mess. Agni, Rudra, come along.”

“Yes, Your Majesty!”

At least those two listened to me.

* * *

Years must have passed since the last time I woke up in my own bed. With how slow my body was to wake, it did feel like I’d been asleep for years. My room had no windows, so I couldn’t guess the time as I eased out from under the blankets and found my feet. No mask or armor rested against my bedside table, but like always, an outfit had been laid out for me. Even now, Credo treated me like a little kid.

My rings rested beside the clothes, and I put them on first. They felt foreign yet comfortable. I wasn’t sure if Credo wanted for me to keep them once we convinced the people of his position, but I would wear them for him as long as he needed me to. I owed him that much.

When I started to change, I found the scar where the sword had run me through. The gash painted my side and back with the same numb scales as my arm. “It had better not start glowing too,” I grumbled as I pulled on the fresh set of clothes. He’d picked the most obnoxiously formal set I owned, all shining brocade in the deep blue of Fortuna’s royal crest. I looked like goddamn curtains.

I’d never stepped out into the hall without my mask on, so I couldn’t help but peer out the door first to see if anyone were there. Before I could check both ends of the hall, a smooth voice sent my claws digging into the door.

“Finally awake,” Trish said. I turned to find her behind the door, wearing her usual lazy smirk. “You slept like the dead, Prince.”

“I’m not the prince.”

“I’ll stop calling you that when everyone else does.”

I let it go with a scoff. Credo was probably the root of the issue, so I’d need to get onto him. “Where is everyone?” I asked. Sunlight beamed in from the windows overlooking the courtyard. It looked to be mid-day.

“Around,” she said with a vague wave of her hand. “Credo didn’t care to give anyone a room near yours. That was mostly Dante’s fault, though.”

I didn’t want to know.

“So why are you right here?”

She offered no answer beyond a shrug and a smile. No wonder she was Dante’s friend. They were both infuriating. “Oh,” she said at length. “I suppose there’s one.”

“One what?” I asked, but my answer came before the words finished leaving my mouth.

“Little Prince!” Sparda called as he turned the corner at the end of the hall. “How nice to see you awake.” His usual smothering presence came with him as he strode our way. Trish clicked her tongue in annoyance.

“How are you feeling?” Sparda asked. Being near someone so exuberant after just waking up made me feel exhausted again.

“Fine. Hey, uh, did I… stab you?”

His brows shot up. “You recall that?”

Damn, I was hoping I’d been wrong. Everything beyond storming into the back room of the dungeon was a haze of black spots and blurry images, but I could remember some sounds, and the smell of his blood was such a clear memory that it made my stomach roll.

“I can sort of remember,” I said, ducking my head under his calm gaze.

“Do not worry yourself over it. Everyone I love stabs me.”

That wasn’t comforting. “Hang on-”

Yet another yell from down the hall cut me off. “Dad! Stop being weird!” Dante strolled into view with his fingers laced behind his head.

“I was not being weird.”

“Anything you do is weird.” He was one to talk. He cracked a smile at the sight of me. “Finally up, kid?”

“Yeah-yeah, I get it. I slept a while. What happened after I fell asleep?” I could recall pieces of the talk with the guards. Somehow, that had gone over well. I wasn’t sure what I’d been saying half the time, and I remembered thinking about how nice passing out against the floor sounded.

“We got Credo’s rings. The day is saved. Blah, blah, blah,” Dante said with a wave of his hand.

I felt sure he was skimming over something important, but before I could ask, Sparda placed his hand on my shoulder and caught my eyes with his. “Now that you are more aware, I must ask. Are you certain you’re alright with Credo becoming the king?”

My chest tightened, each breath thin and aching. I wanted to lie, but I found the truth falling from my lips. “I don’t know. I don’t know if it’s unfair because I’m getting off easy now, and it will be so much work for him. But it’s not my throne. It never was.”

Sparda’s brow furrowed in concern. “You shouldn’t feel guilty, Little Prince.”

Vergil’s icy voice at my back made me jolt. “It’s good that he understands the consequences, though.”

Turning, I found his expression as aloof and difficult to read as ever. Something about his presence made warning bells chime in my head, but he was so calm that I couldn’t begin to decipher how to react to him. “Where do all of you keep coming from?” I muttered.

“I hope you’re prepared to address a crowd soon,” Vergil said, ignoring my question. “Credo has stalled for as long as he can, but you’ll have to regale your people with your lies if you hope to make his transition to the throne work.”

“It’s fine. I can do it.” I hoped none of the anxiety roaring through my head showed. The thought of giving a speech made my skin go cold. A distraction came the moment I noticed that both Vergil and Dante had white hair again. Come to think of it, so did I. I couldn’t think of when or why that had happened, but Sparda jolted me from my thoughts with another clap to the shoulder.

“I’m certain the people of Fortuna would love anything you had to say. Religious sorts can be a bit...”

“Like sheep,” Vergil finished for him.

“Stupid,” Dante offered.

Both of his sons turned to stare off at nothing, the picture of innocence under their father’s firm stare. “Not quite where I was going, but I’m certain Nero will do well regardless.”

“We’re still ignoring the matter of his lack of control,” Vergil said, pretending to find interest in the courtyard. “We must return home, and he must remain here with his current position. How do you expect for us to train him?”

My cheeks burned so hot that I must have turned a few shades. He was lucky I didn’t have my weapons because it wasn’t far to the courtyard, and the grounds made for a great place to duel. “I won’t lose control again! I don’t need your help!”

They all looked at me, pinned me with inquisitive stares that chipped away at my pride. As much as I wanted to believe my own words, I wasn’t oblivious enough to lie to myself like that. I buckled under their unspoken accusations, ducking my head to avoid them. With all of them circled around me, I felt like a pack of wolves had backed me into a corner. My arm still buzzed with a desire to fight back, and if Sparda’s smothering presence hadn’t been there, I might have. Vergil was the first to speak, breaking the tension with a scoff of, “You can’t honestly believe that.”

Dante’s smile was so forced that it seemed to pain him. “Yeah, kid, we’ll have to do something. I think you can get a handle on things with practice, but you’re still not stable enough to be left alone without someone who can take you down a notch if you get a little difficult.”

“Do not fret,” Sparda said. “It is true that I must return to my duties, and you to yours, Little Prince. Vergil needs to come back with me as well, but-” He broke into a blinding smile. “-Dante does not.”

Dante must not have heard his father because he blinked a few times before turning to Sparda. “What?”

“Yes, I was thinking things over while Nero was resting.” Sparda nodded along to his own thoughts, looking far too proud of himself. “You can look after him and train him to keep a handle on his devil side. Be the knight of the knight, if you will. And Agni and Rudra can keep you company so you don't miss home too much.”

Bewildered, Dante looked like he’d gotten lost in a maze. “You could have mentioned this idea to me.”

Judging from Vergil’s raised brows and Trish’s open mouth, Sparda hadn’t mentioned it to anyone. I had a growing urge to break his jaw so he couldn’t keep looking so damn happy with himself.

“It’s the most logical option,” he said. “You’re not doing much back home. Besides, you like the food here. I suppose if we want to make it official, we can dub you Capulet’s Royal Correspondent for Fortuna.”

Grabbing Sparda’s cravat, I tugged down and forced him to look me in the eye. “I don’t want him. You can keep him.”

Sparda took the opportunity to straighten the cuff of my sleeve, like I’d held my arm up to him for that reason. “But you two get along so well. I think it will work out for the best.”

“Please let me be hearing this wrong,” Credo sighed as he too appeared at the end of the hall. He wore the same sort of finery as I had, and I couldn’t help but find the picture odd. Credo wore simple white uniform pieces at all times, as did everyone in the Order. Even most of my clothes had been white. I couldn’t help but stare at the shining vest he wore, as dark blue as dusk. When I caught his eye, he glanced away with a short huff. “Glad to see you’re well and awake,” he said despite not looking at me as he strode toward us. “Now what is this about Dante staying? You didn’t mention this before, Sparda.”

As Sparda reiterated his pain-in-the-ass plan, Vergil lowered his voice under his father’s and spoke. “Nero.” Hearing him say my name was always odd. “While I admit, having to deal with my brother is agonizing-”

“I can hear you.”

Vergil showed no signs of hearing Dante in return, continuing over him. “There is no guarantee that Credo will be able to talk you down should you lose control again. You were a breath away from killing him this time.”

The memory hit me like an arrow to my chest. I’d held a sword to Credo’s throat. I’d been so close, so angry that I didn’t realize who I was attacking. I could have killed him just like I’d tried to kill them.

“Dante is useless at most things, but he should be able to handle you in a fight,” Vergil continued despite his brother’s grumbling. “That is, if he actually would bother to fight you. He does have some weapons that would be better suited to restraining you, so I suppose we could retrieve them. Besides, you need someone who can provide some sort of training. Dante may be able to figure that out.”

“This has been a good day for my self-esteem,” Dante said. “You know, no one has bothered to ask if I’m alright with this.”

Vergil shrugged. “We all know that you are. You like to be out of the castle, and you enjoy dealing with the boy.”

“Harassing” would have been a more accurate word, but otherwise, that sounded like Dante to me.

“Fine,” I said over Sparda and Credo’s continued argument. “He can stay.”

Dante was more startled than anyone else, looking like he’d never seen me before. “You sure, kid?” he asked. “If you don’t-”

“You started this whole mess!” Turning my back on him, I crossed my arms and searched for the commanding tone I thought a general was supposed to have. “And now it’s my turn. I don’t remember inviting you to my castle, so it looks like you’re trespassing to me. That warrants your arrest. The rest of you should probably leave soon before I capture you too.”

“What?” Dante asked again.

Sparda struggled to bottle a laugh. “Little Prince, we’re supposed to be trying to be on good terms.”

They were _supposed_ to be leaving. My good terms were that I hadn’t arrested them yet. “We can negotiate the terms of his release at a later date,” I said. “I expect some reparations.”

Despite Credo’s furrowed brow, I had a feeling he was smiling under the hand he placed over his mouth. “Nero, you do know that you’re no longer the prince. I do actually have authority in this situation.”

“I’m your general, right?”

“Of course.”

“And I’m your advisor.”

“So it would seem.”

“Then, as your general, I’m advising you to kidnap Capulet’s useless prince.” Turning back again, I waved toward Dante. “He’s my prisoner.”

Vergil wore a thin smile, but his eyes shined with amusement. “We’ll have to be going then,” he said. “Lest we upset our would-be allies further. We’ll see to your release after you’ve served your time, Dante.”

“Hang on, you can’t just leave,” Dante huffed.

Sparda patted Dante’s shoulder. “Have fun being kidnapped, Son.”

With dulled eyes, Dante turned to me. “This isn’t funny.”

No, I found it hilarious. “Don’t blame me. I warned you when we first met. I told you that I wouldn’t take responsibility if you got killed.”

Breaking with a soft laugh, Dante threw his hands up. “Then maybe stop trying to kill me. But fine, kid, I’m your prisoner now.” He gave a sweeping bow. “Prince Dante of Capulet at your service. What’s the first order of business?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this silly thing. Leave me a comment if you liked it because I love attention and feedback. And go read Blackout if you haven't because it's good, I swear. 
> 
> Feel free to let me know if you have interest in seeing alternate epilogues, or I probably won't write them, but I'll get the Dante/Nero one out after I get an update or two on Blackout. They'll be hooked to this fic as part of a series.


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